In the labyrinth of nightfall, shadows stretch, creating paths that whisper tales of lands unseen. The map unfurls under starlit skies, woven with threads of twilight, guiding the dreamer through echoes of forgotten realms. There are places on this map where time conducts its symphony, playing notes only the shadows can hear.
The strokes of ink bleed into the canvas, forming islands of iridescence that pulse like the heartbeat of an unseen creature. These are borders of dreams, maps in hand like silent screams against the outline of a waking world. As the brush grazes the surface, reality bends, revealing paths that lead, not away, but deeper.
The wind carries secrets, intertwined with whispers from elsewhere. These whispers speak of the Paths Beyond: a hidden door, formless shades, and windows of perception.