The Last Asp of Rites
Beneath the silver moon's gaze, where shadows weave eternity's whispers, a portal opens in the tapestry of dreams.
Scribbled notes found within dusty tomes:
- To conjure the unseen, whisper thrice beneath the willow's sigh.
- Look not to the stars for its trace, but to the heart's labyrinth.
- Where the river speaks, the ancients sleep.
The last rites, held by the silent watchers, echo through the echoes of forgotten realms. Once more, the old songs stir the embers.
A fragment from the Margins:
"The corner of reality where dreams awaken, inked in dusk's palette."
Orbs of Dawn
Fleeting Whispers