Prompt

A single, transparent sphere of solidified wind hangs suspended in the center of a vast, glasswalled atrium built inside a mountain of compressed, fossilized silence. The sphere is not stillit rotates slowly, revealing layers of frozen air currents that spiral inward like a timelapse storm captured in crystal, each layer etched with the faint, ghostly outlines of voices that were never spoken but were heard anyway, in dreams or neardeath moments. The atriums floor is made of polished, black quartz that reflects not the sphere, but the exact moment it was formedseen from a different angle, as if viewed from the future, where the sphere has already shattered into a thousand glittering shards that float upward like reverse snow. The

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