Silence reverberates, the whispering groves breathe torn pages from long-forgotten tomes.
You wander through the latticework of forgetful echoes. The mist chants: ...shadows melt, sands eat bones, trees remember blood...
Step Into the Crypt — listen for the truth sewn between sighs
The Tree’s Confession — scratch the bark, peel back the centuries
Speaks the faltering light, plays the omen of awkward foresight.