In the expanse where reality’s fabric grows thin, a place hangs suspended, bordered by the tranquil sea and the vast expanse. This isle exists as a figment of slumber. Once a concrete body orbiting in the black sea of space, now just in the ether. It was the birthing room of the universe.
Water caresses its base, a polished mirror to the spectacle of illumination. Above, not a single celestial body presides, but a cauldron of potentiality, each sparkle an unexplored avenue, an adventure uninitiated.
Travelers do not arrive by conventional means; their passage is one of mind, a flash of insight bridging the mundane and the profound. Their departure is as ephemeral, a thought completed, a question answered.
The isle is where creation stirs, a forge of beginnings. It is untouched by known lexicon or law, a crucible where the fabric of what might be is woven. Within this nexus, infinite stories await their tellers, a library of futures untold, silently anticipating the echoes of discovery to mold them into being.
https://Duncan.co/isle-of-beginnings
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