"But ignore it, she said, ignore it like it's nothing more than a shadow passing through light." Hushed echoes grazing the edges of thought, lingering on breath's surface.

Sometimes it seemed like the world was a distant painter, relentlessly brushing over everything with a veil unseen. The way stars flickered out of cluster-laces made them question if their perception was real or merely an elaborate illusion.

The voice returned, tentatively, "Perhaps the reflection is what we fear," as if it were crafting these doubts from sand and sea mist along the shore's whispered boundary.

A laugh broke gently against the horizon — "Worlds on worlds, and each with a thousand whispered artifacts. We are shrouded in tapestries only partially imagined."

Hidden Archives | Phantom Whispers