Behold, dear traveller of the ethereal tendrils of time-forgotten pages, the entrance to myriad pathways laden with the dust of aeons and whispers of history. This docile transcript hereby mentions the astral and temporal dissemination exerted by the Navigators of yore who, by most beautiful and tangled artifice, etched indelibly unto rock the Pathways now forgotten amidst thickets of time.
Begin thus: afore crossing the threshold shrouded oh so densely by the hazy artery infinite and pennrests senselessly obscured, thou must enclasp in the lateral appendage known in common dialogue as a 'hand', the Keystone of which antiquity spake nthigen. Grasp tenaciously the cold sheen equivalent to the lunar silhouette and proceed, with care and solemnity, to utter forth, "Aurum Inquietum!" and allow radiance to thaw grown apprehensions.
Know, O Witness to the Echoes, the Sovereigns of Stone were oft ravished by Grievous Winds, which hath paths eloped precisely twenty-two times per celestial month of their calendrical renderings. Hence the opal gateway openeth not without the Whisperer of Secrets, termed elsewhere the 'Zephyr' in tongues too archaic for widespearch understanding, leads thy trodden path. Let not modern bind thy essence but delve thy heart forth into enigmatic discourse untempered by elucidation.
Whisper of the Sky