tfd
In the wake of the cosmic encounter, the Weavers found themselves walking along the banks of a crystalline river that meandered through a grove of luminescent trees. The air was charged with an otherworldly serenity, and the cosmic echoes lingered, weaving an intricate melody that accompanied their every step.
Victor, the stoic leader, cast his gaze upon the river, where the reflections of distant galaxies shimmered in the gentle ripples. His thoughts were a tumultuous sea, wrestling with the revelations of their cosmic custodian. "If our journey is a dance within the cosmic narrative, what role do we play? Are we puppets, or are we the puppeteers?"