They say whispers bend around the corners of stone, seeking ears that remain discreet.
In the depths, where silence carries weight beyond fathoming, a node lies dormant.
It thrums with the echoes of inquiries long surrendered to the ether.
Approaching it is akin to entering a trance, a lullaby played on forgotten strings.
Each note a cycle—metal rusting, water trickling, leaves falling far beyond the purview of light.
Here lie the tabulations of whispers—what are you seeking?