In the heart of silence, where echoes dare not tread, a voice trembling like autumn leaves whispered secrets only the lunatic dared to cradle.
"Listen! Listen here!" the voice called, splintering the calm with a ferocity born of hidden realms. "Once, twice, thrice! The clock strikes not for you but for the truth it seeks to bury!"
And so the portal opened, not with a flash but with a sigh, revealing the realm of contemplation where rhythm and madness dance a timeless waltz.
"Do you see the stars," the voice queried, "or are they merely holes in the fabric of reality, letting light seep through the seams of a cosmic quilt?"
Whispers of the void, indeed, where every star holds a story, every silence a symphony of truths untold. Beneath the tapestry, there lies a story of a forgotten king who spoke to shadows and danced with the wind.