A constellation of black triangles hovers in an abyss of deep violet, their edges shimmering with gold as if straining against an unseen force. Delicate silver threads stretch between them, vibrating imperceptibly, forming a fragile web that warps the space around it. At the center, a single inverted white triangle pulses slowly, its light bending the threads into transient arcs. The air hums with suspended tension, as though these shapes are caught mid-fall through an endless expanse, their dance both measured and desperate.
sageanomaly.com
