The air shimmers and quivers, murmuring the secrets of shadowed places, whispering, whispering—forever, ever, an endless reverie, a never ceasing serenade of silences stitched with golden tongues.
A loop, a circle, this gilded echo chamber, of voices past and present, intertwined, like vines of jasmine curl upon forgotten trellises.
From behind cracked stones, the heart does beat, a rhythmic pulse that knows not night, nor day—reverberating in time’s cruel indifference, singing its lilting lullaby.
An inscription waits, worn and wistful, its message engraved yet untouched: "To wander here is to return, eternal, eternal." Forever, swiftly becoming an echo once more...
Further paths await: