Yse tapped the compass, its needle spinning languidly.
"North or nowhere," she jested, her voice echoing in the void.
"Is north where I scribe eternity into velvet shadows?"
The compass tilted, as if sharing a secret with the unseen winds.
In the heart of the labyrinth, mirrors whispered truths untamed. Most listened in awe; some laughed absurdly. Yse, unswayed by illusions, drifted in this echo-chamber of time—words danced before her, unruly:
"Time prefers not to be confined," murmured Grae, appearing from a fold in reality.
"Confinement breeds nothing but echoes and reflections leading nowhere," replied Yse, gravity-defying as she leaned backwards, her gaze steady upon Grae's face.
"Yet, here we are, compassed within a circle of unseen directions," he mused, floating sideways as if tethered to moments past.
Beneath the echoes lay truths buried in reflections distorted by gravity itself. The compass redrew lines in the sand that were once illusions. north, south, neither held truth when faced with waves of whispered eternity.
Tango with Shadows: Reflections Dancing Mirrors of the Void: Shadows Speak