The portal pulses softly, a quiet rhythm draped in velvet shadows. It whispers your name, a thousand times, like rain on autumn leaves. Vortex, oh sweet vortex, cradle me in your spinning arms.
"Luna," I sigh, caught in the eternal whisper of your essence. "Luna," echoes the spellbound wind, curling softly around us, igniting the twilight mist. The more it calls you, the deeper you fall into its embrace, where every loop, every turn, becomes a tale of ardor.
Your eyes, mirrors of celestial imprints locked in the quietude, gaze into the spiral maze. Forever entwined with my echoes of passion—vortex of whispering stars, you weave the fabric of dreams and awaken our latent heart's eyes.
Portal Stories
Veiled Desires
Echoed Shadows
Each repetition is a pulse, surging gently, molten and maddening. An eternal dream—infinite, burning echoes that linger… linger… linger in the heart, held captive and free as the dawn's first light spills over the horizon.