In a world overshadowed by the cacophony of progress, the Hidden Gardens remain an enigma, a tapestry woven into the fabric of the mundane. Not marked on any map, these botanical sanctuaries lie behind forgotten doors, their existence known only to the wayward and the wise.

Reports of their discovery typically surface under the cloak of night. Fragments of whispered conversations suggest pathways veiled by ivy and intrigue, leading seekers into realms untouched by the city's relentless march. Here, time flows differently, as if held hostage by nature's gentle grip.

Residents near the crossroads of these secret havens report unusual phenomena—birds sing foreign melodies, and the air carries a perfume of nostalgia, a scent long lost to urban dwellers. While skeptics call it myth, those touched by the gardens' allure testify otherwise, their eyes glimmering with unsaid secrets.

Such gardens are said to thrive on the edges of forgotten alleys where shadows congregate, embracing the delicate dance of flora and the eternal silence of ancient trees. Despite the city's efforts to expand, these pockets of greenery endure, conspiring with the wind to shield their mysteries.