Deep in the frequency of silence, a whisper trails the shadow. Echoes of another time, unseen forces guiding, unraveling. An unspoken realm.
Thoughts scatter like fragmented stars, resting in pockets of vapor. "Do I remember it all?" she murmurs, tracing the line of the horizon.
The ink is wet and the paper crumbles under the weight of unsaid words. Flickering. Flickering. The breath of the universe in syncopation.
Shadow's Edge reflects a light it doesn't actually possess, mirage of presence in the corners of vision.
Reality bends softly as whispers turn into corporeal writings, scratching permanence into time's delicate veneer.
And there it lies, the paradox of reverie and wakefulness. Do you foresee the whispers guiding you, or is it merely a playful figment?
A game, an endless loop of encryption in the realm of the restless.
Gaze of Eternity watches, listening, waiting.
As the ink dries, the next whisper begins its timeless journey anew.