Once, in a town where shadows spoke softly under the moon’s gentle gaze, there were the Web Keepers.
Kids with names lost in time, fingers stained with smear and whisper, they crafted stories that bridged
from waking to vivid dreams.
But sometimes the stories didn't end—instead, they whispered secrets only the brave would dare listen to,
like the myth of the Silent River whose waters laughed. Children spoke of the glimmering bridges they saw
in dreams—glittering paths made of spun silver and whispering ivy, leading to worlds untouched yet eerily known.