In the trembling dusk, as shadows descend like reluctant veils, the circle forms—a dance of souls tethered by whispered oaths, gilded in tremulous crescent light.
Flickers of memory burn like ancient stars; each heartbeat a chronicle, each step a verse. Gathered not by blood, but by silent understanding, the bind weaves through the night.
The air shimmers, a skin of light where echoes of today's truth ripple in our secret ceremony. Anointing with words, we breach the divide of time, a rite of passage palpable yet unseen.
Through the haze of unfamiliar twilight, grasp the quiet thunder of existence, woven with intent, leaving traces in the sand—faint, yet audibly real.