Suspended in their ethereal dance, the floating castles of Celestia rest beneath the watchful gaze of the moon. Veils of shimmering mist cloak their ancient stones, whispered secrets encrypted in the very fabric of time itself.
"If only one could decipher the Elven script upon the winds," murmurs the traveler, hushed tones nestling within the folds of night.
Once, long before the echoes of civilization painted the sky with steel, these bastions of the sky twinkled with laughter and song. Bridges woven from stardust connected each isle in a tapestry of riches beyond reckoning.
"A home for the forgotten dreams," answers the scribe, ink frozen by time's relentless passage.
Now only the audacious dare to seek them, following trails lit by the glow of dormant starfire. Each castle sits cradled on its cloud, guarded not by stone and steel, but by whispers—ancient, unfathomable, sacred.
"Can we not, for one fleeting moment, grasp their invisible dancings?" questions the child, innocence veiling the arcane enigmas.
Wander these hollow paths: Ancient Tides, The Fallen Stars, Remnants of Silence.