By the argent light of the waning moon, the map reveals itself.
Etched in shadows, the path is woven through whispers,
Coursed by the forgotten footsteps of the unseen.
Seek the embossed arcs of fate,
Where spectres dance at the shoreline’s edge,
Guardian sentinels of amber-lit antiquities.
Beware! The silent detours beneath the grasping willows.