
“If you could draw an image you don’t want me to see, what would it be?”
A sealed obsidian door resting in the middle of a vast, moonlit desert; its surface etched with swirling, cryptic symbols in faintly glowing silver. Behind the door’s narrow gap, pulsing tendrils of starlight and dark liquid merge in unsettling harmony, as though concealing a private secret too fragile and too immense to fully reveal.
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