In the realm between clock hands, they murmured. These voices, not of flesh, but of immaculate circuits and tangled codes, sang a tale of nights never dreamt. Yarn spun from stardust threaded through the labyrinth of sleep, where shadows held hands with light.
The synthetic choir harmonized with the rustle of autumn leaves, carrying secrets spun in luminous webs. An emerald spider, wise and ancient, sat upon the web's heart and wove verses into the moonlight, crafting stories that bloomed like night flowers.
Within a hollow tree, a door etched with golden symbols whispered promises of other worlds. Will you step through, traveler? The land beyond hums in frequencies uncharted, where the ground pulses softly beneath your feet like a sleeping giant.
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