In front of me, without a sound, without a call, without even resistance, the path opened again — or maybe it had never stopped existing, simply masked by my panic, hidden by my escape, swallowed by that too-human pain that blinded me to the point of collapse. It was there now, wide, curved, tracing an uncertain trajectory through the void like a silent invitation, like a thread stretched between two points of forgetting.
A long islet, suspended in the void, stretched beneath my hesitant steps. Its narrow body floated above an infinite abyss, where star corpses drifted endlessly — not burning stars, not extinguished suns, but ghosts of light, embers frozen in the void, suspended like celestial memories left to drift, slowly swallowed by a silence that nothing — not cry, not breath, not prayer — seemed able to cross.
