An invisible quiver darted through the spine of existence. Here, where silence becomes stories, the stars leaned in to listen. Their light, filtering through space's tapestry, like throaty laughter after an ancient tale well told.
And from the borders, an echo arose. Its essence seeping through the membranes of the overlooked realm, whispering truths the stars themselves sketched but forgot how to speak.
A lone traveler found themselves entrenched in this interlude, seeped in solitude, cradled by the stars’ distant observation. Every echo discovered caressed by silence, told a different sagacity etched in stardust.
Their feet kissed ground that tales abandoned, leaving behind roads untraveled and melodies unsung. Yet each step ignited constellations connected by a thread only faintly underfoot.