Along the stretch of an invisible coastline, where waves of time lap against the air, there lie whispers of a world unseen. In the soft sighs of the breeze, stories awaken, and shadows dance in the twilight. Here, the horizon meets the soul, and where one tale ends, another begins.
In an empty glade, among the flickering shadows of forgotten trees, the Ground spoke—a rumble in the silence that echoed softly as though rehearsing a long-lost melody. At its call, a figure emerged, wreathed in the fabric of dawn, woven with threads of golden mist and silver silence.
The being, known only as Seeker, felt the phantom footsteps of stories past tracing their lines in the sand of memory. Inside of every whispered tale, a truth lay hidden—wrapped in the enigma of a new beginning. From the windswept grass, letters formed, spelling out directions written by time itself.
Riddles left by the Ancients appeared like constellations scattered above, guiding the wanderer through a maze of light and shadow. With every step, the Seeker left behind not footprints, but the breath of words that floated and settled on the minds of those who followed.
The horizon beckoned towards a future where beginnings and ends were but the same fold in a cosmic quilt. "Endings," the Seeker mused, "are merely beginnings cloaked in familiar dusk."
Into the Whispering Forest The Phantom Sky Abyss by the Candlelight