In the corner of your mind's eye, a pathway unfolds—gnarled in whispers, veiled in silver light. Old constellations speak in tongues of ancient woodlands. The starry path guides those who hear its echo.
The wind rustles memories of lives thrice lived, each step casting the shadows of phantoms long departed. Follow the whispers, spiraling in dimensions unseen by waking eyes, tracing secrets in the constellated dust of night.
The stars begin to align, their luminescence building a grid unknown, only known as the starry XPath. Walk onward, for each decision shapes a tapestry that cradles the cosmos.
Keeper of the night, guardian of dreams—do you see them too? Halos and auras, dancing like luminescent moths around old street lamps. Follow them or stand still, listening to the tick of starlight.
Beyond this page, paths unfurl in coded reveries: