POCKET WIZARD

The moon hums a soft tune, pajamas sway with a mind of their own, and the trees nod like they’re in on a secret you almost remember. Marshmallows toast themselves over a fire that flickers in colors you can’t quite name. Somewhere, a telephone rings—not demanding, just patient, like it knows you’ll answer when the time is right. Freedom Through the Realms Whispers: Guild of @Clardforge