Spells and the Unseen Threads

In a world made not of what is spoken, but of whispers beneath your pillow, lie the spells they will never know.

Shimmering lights dance in the periphery of vision, but when turned to gaze, they shatter into fragments of time.

"If only," the echoes lament, trace the line between dusk and dawn, where children laugh and the universe groans.

The rabbit hole holds no end, but an endless beginning — a looped curiosity curling into itself like a child’s first toy.