Once, in the folds of whispered twilight, a pattern emerged within the emptiness—a luminous rhombus illuminating the shadows... The corners bit deeper into the void, as if to anchor dreams in an awakening night.
Do you remember the time when the rhombus spoke? Words mirrored across time's reflective waters, speaking not to the ears but to the very marrow beneath our skin...
A path lines itself before you, not of soil nor stone, but of echoes. Each step resonates with phantoms of choices never made yet known in other realities...