Prompt

A single, selfsustaining constellation of floating, geometric origami cranes made of solidified static and woven moonlight hovers in the center of a vast, still chamber carved from the inside of a dormant volcano, its walls not stone but layers of compressed, fossilized laughter from a civilization that never spoke aloud. The cranes do not flythey pulse, each fold resonating with the frequency of a word that was never uttered, their edges glowing faintly with the afterimage of a handshake that occurred in reverse time. The floor is not rockit is a thick, viscous layer of liquid silence, its surface rippling with the thermal echo of a breath exhaled into the void, each ripple forming the shape of a letter that

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