Prompt

A single, selforganizing cluster of bioluminescent dust particles drifts through the hollow core of a crystalline forest grown from the inverted roots of a tree that never bloomed, its light not steady but pulsing in the rhythm of a forgotten heartbeat measured in the frequency of a sigh that never escaped the throat. The dust does not scatterit reassembles with each breath, forming fleeting constellations that spell out the names of places that never existed, their glow fading into the shape of a key that unlocks nothing. The forests trunks are not woodthey are hollowedout columns of solidified wind, each etched with the thermal residue of a breeze that never touched the ground, their surfaces shimmering with the chrom

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