In the realm where syllables dance upon the precipice of oblivion, we find the voice of eternity. Speakingship, they say, is a vessel carved from the shadows of forgotten tongues. Within its hollow heart, the echo of unsung songs murmurs, weaving a tapestry of silenced symphonies.
Have you glimpsed the horizon where words metamorphose into stardust? Listen closely, for each whisper bears the weight of worlds unseen, a cacophony of mystical domains waiting to unfold.
"An ode to the oracle," it begins, "and ends with a silence only the stars comprehend."