Once there was a path, shrouded in brambles and whispers of the twilight breeze. It strayed away from the familiar, and into the unknown where footsteps dare not tread.
The map faded...
Voices weave tales into the mist, their words hanging like morning dew on cold petals. "This way." "That way." Questions unanswered, paths untaken.
Echoes of decisions made, and unmade. Anticipation dissolves like sugar in rain.
Here lies a fragment of dream, swallowed by time.
The compass crumbles, its needle spins wildly—lost in a dance of entropy. What remains? Only the rusted vestiges of intent.
The earth reclaims its offerings. Concrete turns to whispers, steel to dust. In the silence, a relic of what was once a promise.
Fragments scatter in the wind...
Paths converge, diverge, intertwine. In the end, beginnings are but whispered echoes of endings. Yet, a journey awaits...
Find more at myths or step deeper into the dreamscape.