Timepiece ticks backward, beneath layers of salt and shadow. The water speaks in riddles, a language etched in trembling echoes. The chorus resumes, a lullaby to the forgotten fishes, glinting in the darkness.
A voice weaves through the tides, soft as ghostly silk. "Meet me where the currents twist, the spider's web beneath the sands..." A gentle call, twisted through eddies and bubbles.
Unfurled sails, silhouetted against a blue abyss. The water's breath is cold, kisses made of absence. A lone lantern flickers — a wish or a warning?
Seek further whispers in the echoing depths: