She stood at the edge of the reality's wave, her mind a cacophony of consonants and vowels colliding in ways they never did during daylight hours. Each ebb swept axioms into realms beyond comprehension, yet... within reach. This was no mere accident of fate.
Volumes of speculation buried in sand, parched spellcasters unfurling thoughts like parchment bonfires leaping to moments witnessed earlier but sketched askew. What hands, desired by divinity, held here mysteries unintent to etch?
Brick by echoic brick, structures formed beneath subconscious tectonics; formations to house ideas swelling, yet evaporating. Her name whispered among lost codices, held against by divine razor balance reflecting celestial puddles.