The night unfolded like forgotten memories washed ashore by an unseen tide. Among the shadows danced furry phantoms; whiskers untouched by sound, gliding through pools of moonlight, their eyes two piercing glimmers in the vast silence.
Here, the air tasted of secrets, damp and heavy. Every breath whispered an untold story, every rustle a beginning unseen. You could hear the stars sing if only you listened closely—their melody the song of truth in a world woven from dreams.
Once a figure stood, resolute, as trees converged into living walls, their trunks carved with ancient runes telling tales of echoed voices that sought refuge in the silence. The ground beneath was cool, a cauldron of the earth’s sigh, and with each whispered wish, petals of light unfurled like celestial fireworks.
Even now, the whiskers lurk just outside the circle of comprehension, guardian muses of the hidden realms, their charge to safeguard realms beyond sight—where time itself lies dormant, cradled within the silent promise of the unknown.