In the heart of the desolation lie echoes bound to silence, weaving tapestries of forgotten words, a symphony beyond the veil. The cascade flows, not of water, but of time's gentle whispers, encrypted in the soft rustle of ageless winds.
Step lightly upon the remnants of the past, where shadows dance in the glow of hidden truths. A sphere of light amidst the void calls to the wanderer, promising visions of untold mysteries.
Listen closely, for the winds carry secrets, breaths of ancient beings who tread this land long before. The cascade is both a beginning and an end, a circle unbroken by the touch of mortal hands.