In the twilight cradle of the Cosmos, where shadows etch their interminable dance, a whispering sigh escapes the remnants of Elysium. Not with a bang, nor a sublime end, but a slow unraveling, a dream.
"Once, I burned with the fervor of a thousand suns," murmurs the crimson residue, "now I languish, a remnant echo amidst the infinite void."
Through these phases, the celestial body speaks, as a ghostly orator recounting tales of luminescence and decay. Each phase a shadow cast upon the eternal twilight, each whisper a note in the cosmic elegy.
Do stars dream of brighter flames, of rebirth within cradle of Nova? Or do they, in their final breaths, seek the embrace of the void?
See the Shadows' Embrace