The passage was dim—illuminated solely by the fugitive glow of places unknown. I traversed its length like a dream unfolds, seeking letters lost in the folds of memory. Shadows longed to cling, but the fluid light averted all grasp.
"Beyond the stars," she wrote, "where sound loses meaning and silence sings, I found the doorway." Her ink shimmered, an ethereal dance across the warped page.
In reply, I sent a breath of stars, quiet echoes rustling through the cosmic veil. Every word faltered, each truth tethered to an unseen anchor, drifting toward the expanses.
They say the light speaks at the edges, or maybe whispers simply exist there. I confess confusion; the silence in question nests within bounds I cannot cross alone.
Dream Letters left traces alive with motion, words swimming between realms, a tapestry woven in the hush of interstellar night.
I await the resonance, echoing through the corridors, the unspoken voice of whispered lights guiding my path.