The White Moon Rabbit-The Timekeeper’s River and the Rabbit’s Choice

The Rabbit and the River of Time

The traveler had long forgotten their name. Time had unraveled it, just as it had unraveled the path they once walked. The moment they stepped into the River of Time, they had become weightless, drifting between the golden threads of memory and the silver wisps of possibility. The river shimmered, neither water nor light, but something in between—a celestial current that whispered the echoes of yesterday and the sighs of tomorrow.

And then, through the rippling luminescence, the traveler saw it.

A figure, bathed in ethereal moonlight, perched upon a floating lotus of silver petals. A rabbit, impossibly white, as though woven from stardust and moonbeams, its long ears flickering like gossamer veils in the cosmic breeze.

"You have wandered far," the rabbit murmured, its voice like a soft chime in the wind. "Few find their way to the River of Time, and even fewer are offered a choice."

The traveler floated closer, heart trembling with unspoken longing. "A choice?"

The White Moon Rabbit gazed at them with eyes that held constellations. "Three paths lie before you," it whispered. "You may step back into the past and relive what once was, changing nothing but feeling everything. You may glimpse the future, but know that seeing is not the same as shaping. Or..."—the rabbit’s whiskers twitched—"you may surrender to the unknown and let the river carry you where it wills, to a fate unwritten, untouched, and unseen."

The traveler hesitated. They had dreamed of returning to the past, of grasping once more what had been lost. And yet, the future called to them like a distant star, promising answers to questions they had yet to ask. But the unknown... it pulsed like a hidden melody, beckoning with its untamed rhythm.

The rabbit tilted its head, as if listening to the silent war waging in the traveler’s heart. "The past is a memory, the future is a mirage. Only the unknown is truly alive."

The traveler inhaled, tasting the river’s time-worn magic on their tongue. Then, with a quiet smile, they stepped forward—into the current, into the unknown, into the endless embrace of possibility.

The White Moon Rabbit watched, a soft glimmer of approval in its celestial eyes, before vanishing like mist beneath the silver glow of eternity.

And the river carried the traveler away, to a story yet to be written.

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