“The echoes from below do not abide by natural law,” she murmured, her voice a ghost reverberating in his mind.
“Nonsense, they warp, but gravity cares not for our illusions,” he replied, as chains of silver light unfurled above their heads.
Where the forest's edge meets the unseen, a hollow breath caresses the veil.
In the realm of forgotten lanes, where footsteps sink into whispered dreams: retrace the echoes or dance within the fractals.
The stars drip with tales unspoken, casting shadows that spell whispers of old.