The horizon emerged, like a serpent's tail, coiling and beckoning. Once believed a boundary, now revealed as an illusion.
The Watchers stood vigilant, their eyes piercing the gloaming. They whispered legends of soot-stained skies and rusting velvet oceans.
Every grain of sand beneath their feet told a story of cities swallowed by splendid decay, of mirages softly slurring the edge of truth.
Silence stretched like a bridge between flickering realities, an expanse where time collapsed into whispers of once and what-will-be.
The whispers of oblivion Fragments