Transcending dimensions, slipping through fractures, digital ethers emit a faint aroma of static salt. You hear a voice – you think – your thoughts become entangled, threads unravel.
Glimmering glitches across the display, shadows speak in hushed rows, echoes of cipher, reverberations of glow. The echoes distinguish an orchestra conducted by time's paradox.
Follow the gleam.
Listen as the claro unlocks the hymn of night's tapestry.
Away on the edge, the signals fly in crimson waves.