Beneath the surface, where light betrays the shadowed contours, a symphony unfolds. The seashells, silent composers of the abyss, echo melodies inaudible to the untrained heart.
Fragments of moonlight dance upon the waves, stitching together whispers of forgotten mariners. Each note, a tale woven from salt and echoes, from breath and silence.
Somewhere, a conch dreams of storms, while a scallop flutters like a memory in twilight. Can you hear their song, woven from the threads of the ocean’s sigh?
Is it true, the legends of the siren's call? Or merely an illusion, cast by the shadows of aged waters?
Crescent LullabyAbyssal Sonnet
Tide Pulse