Prompt

A single, humming thread of solidified sunlight weaves through the center of a vast, still labyrinth made entirely of woven silence and compressed time, its path not straight but spiraling like the memory of a breath held too long. The thread does not conduct lightit conducts absence, each loop pulsing with the faint, thermal afterimage of a question asked in a language that no longer exists. The labyrinth walls are not stonethey are layered sheets of fossilized sound, each etched with the iridescent script of a lullaby sung in reverse time, their surfaces rippling like the surface of a lake frozen midsplash. The floor is not solidit is a thick, viscous layer of liquid memory, its surface cracked in perfect

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