Eventide-The Far Silence. The Archive of Unfinished Tomorrows, #13
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- FormatePub
- ISBN8231369416
- EAN9798231369416
- Date de parution08/07/2025
- Protection num.pas de protection
- Infos supplémentairesepub
- ÉditeurWalzone Press
Résumé
The resonance is fading. The Foldlight is dimming. And still-the listening continues. In the stunning conclusion to the Eventide Resonance trilogy, the Wanderer follows a flickering, unresolved signal across the fading edge of the Fold. No origin. No name. Just a shimmer of presence, pulling the ship and its crew toward a silence deeper than memory. As the harmonic lattice thins and the last traces of the Foldlight Children dissolve into myth, the Wanderer encounters something-or someone-left behind.
Not a survivor. Not a messenger. A being woven from forgotten threads of resonance itself. The Keeper hears what was never spoken. The Captain dreams in songs not yet written. And the Wanderer listens-not to voices, but to the space between them. Here, at the quiet horizon, they face a truth even the Fold once tried to forget:Some songs are never finished. Some echoes never resolve. Some silence. listens back.
Eventide - The Far Silence is a poetic, metaphysical space opera of fading stars, harmonic memory, and the final drift into what lies beyond. For readers who have journeyed through resonance and awe, this is where the Fold exhales-and where the listening never ends. Still. we drift across the woven hush. Still. we hum forgotten names into living rivers. Still. we traverse.
Not a survivor. Not a messenger. A being woven from forgotten threads of resonance itself. The Keeper hears what was never spoken. The Captain dreams in songs not yet written. And the Wanderer listens-not to voices, but to the space between them. Here, at the quiet horizon, they face a truth even the Fold once tried to forget:Some songs are never finished. Some echoes never resolve. Some silence. listens back.
Eventide - The Far Silence is a poetic, metaphysical space opera of fading stars, harmonic memory, and the final drift into what lies beyond. For readers who have journeyed through resonance and awe, this is where the Fold exhales-and where the listening never ends. Still. we drift across the woven hush. Still. we hum forgotten names into living rivers. Still. we traverse.
The resonance is fading. The Foldlight is dimming. And still-the listening continues. In the stunning conclusion to the Eventide Resonance trilogy, the Wanderer follows a flickering, unresolved signal across the fading edge of the Fold. No origin. No name. Just a shimmer of presence, pulling the ship and its crew toward a silence deeper than memory. As the harmonic lattice thins and the last traces of the Foldlight Children dissolve into myth, the Wanderer encounters something-or someone-left behind.
Not a survivor. Not a messenger. A being woven from forgotten threads of resonance itself. The Keeper hears what was never spoken. The Captain dreams in songs not yet written. And the Wanderer listens-not to voices, but to the space between them. Here, at the quiet horizon, they face a truth even the Fold once tried to forget:Some songs are never finished. Some echoes never resolve. Some silence. listens back.
Eventide - The Far Silence is a poetic, metaphysical space opera of fading stars, harmonic memory, and the final drift into what lies beyond. For readers who have journeyed through resonance and awe, this is where the Fold exhales-and where the listening never ends. Still. we drift across the woven hush. Still. we hum forgotten names into living rivers. Still. we traverse.
Not a survivor. Not a messenger. A being woven from forgotten threads of resonance itself. The Keeper hears what was never spoken. The Captain dreams in songs not yet written. And the Wanderer listens-not to voices, but to the space between them. Here, at the quiet horizon, they face a truth even the Fold once tried to forget:Some songs are never finished. Some echoes never resolve. Some silence. listens back.
Eventide - The Far Silence is a poetic, metaphysical space opera of fading stars, harmonic memory, and the final drift into what lies beyond. For readers who have journeyed through resonance and awe, this is where the Fold exhales-and where the listening never ends. Still. we drift across the woven hush. Still. we hum forgotten names into living rivers. Still. we traverse.
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