In whispers, they travel along the edge of time, the echo of dimensions once forgotten. Layered upon layers, resembling an ancient tapestry, their stories unfold, vanish, and whisper once more. Here, time erases itself to start anew, a canvas wiped clean yet carrying the shadows of what once was.
Each erased history signifies not merely absence but presence — the linger of actions not taken, wars unvoiced, and alliances left unmade. The silence speaks loudly in the undone chronicle, only the stars remain as witnesses, recounting tales in constellations that change but whose ancient stories remain constant in their unwavering gaze.
Unwritten Volumes