In the land where shadows play, beyond the whispering woods, there rests a veil. A veil spun from whispers, echoes of laughter that never ends.
The air tingles with forgotten songs, hymns to the crumbling towers that once kissed the sky. Do you hear the melody, traveler? It guides you through the mist.
A child's hand reaches, trembling with delight and fear, to trace the runes. Each circle a story, each line a memory. Do not speak, just listen.
A path forward