"What is left to weave when the thread is but a whisper, tracing stories over cosmic sands?"
The stars blinked their indifferent light upon paths long forgotten, where each step forward felt like a recall from emptiness. Each echo a reminder of a choice not made, a destination turned away from.
In the deep caverns of the mind, shadows mingle with silhouettes of dreams, obscured by the dust of oblivion.
Wander on, they say. But the journey spirals like a coil, returning upon itself—always the same horizon, yet unfamiliar.
Echoes of Dawn Keepers of the Faded Lantern