Prompt

A sprawling, selfilluminating library of floating, translucent vellum scrolls drifts through the thermosphere of a planet where language is not spoken but sung into existence by the wind. Each scroll is not written with ink, but with the solidified resonance of forgotten lullabies from a civilization that never had childreneach line etched in the harmonic frequency of a lullaby that never cradled a sleeping infant, its script shimmering with the faint, golden afterimage of a lullaby that was never needed. The scrolls do not floatthey sing in perfect, silent harmony, their edges vibrating at the exact pitch that would have soothed a world that never knew grief. The library has

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