The Phantom Dances

In the twilight of forgotten realms, where shadows weave stories unto the stars, a dance begins—spectral, intangible, woven from the fabric of lingered dreams. Footsteps echo on pavements kissed by auburn leaves, yet no one is there.

They say the breeze carries fragments of this unseen masquerade, tender auras grazing upon skin like ancient songs sung by the night herself. Every gust, a new verse; every silence, a chorus unheard.