In breathless reverie, the curtain rises on fog-and-whisper-laden paths, every step an unveiling of forgotten whispers cascading through the shadowlands. Silver echoes ripple like the gentle brushes of stars across a darkened sea. Here, dreams left unguarded wander like pelagic thoughts adrift in night’s embrace.
Barren cliffs touch the stars, jagged silhouettes softening into gentle giants draped in luminescent mists. They hold knowledge forgotten by time’s slow turning, guardians of echoes strange and profound. The air vibrates with the resonance of every unuttered word, every ghostly laugh, each creating symphonies unheard.
A cascade of shimmering fragments dances in the light of a moon gone cold, woven silver threads pulling at the edges of waking. The pulse of ancient whispers cradles the weary in solace long sought, leaving behind traces like the unfurling ghost of daybreak.