Under the pale moon, where shadows dance with the whispers of forgotten souls, beneath the ceaseless moan of the ravenous sea, lies the ancient knowledge of the tides. It speaks in guttural tongues, weaving through the mist as a siren's song of fate untold.
"In the silence of the briny deep, truths are drowned and secrets sleep..."
"An old woman sits by the shore, fingers trembling, spinning webs of oceanic lore."
"Do the waves tell tales of those long lost, or do they merely crash and count the cost?"
The winds echo a lament, a cloaked dirge sung by unseen voices, their harmonies entwined with the salt and spray. The dark waters cradle the knowledge, their embrace tender and infinite, as time crumbles like ancient parchment beneath the weight of eternity.
Among the tangled threads of fate, a single truth remains — the tides do not forget, though we may wish it so. They remember every whisper, every breath, and every ghost of what was once tangible.
Twilight ThreadsCryptic Horizons
Voids Murmurings