In a realm where whispers dance with the wind, lies a meadow untouched by time.
Morning dew glistens like tiny stars upon the leaves, and the air carries the scent of dreams.
Wanderers speak of a figure, cloaked in moonlight, who treads softly upon this sacred ground.
Here, the song of the lark becomes a lullaby, cradling the heart in pure, untainted tranquility.
What stories does the wind share about the Innocent?
Visit the mystic forest or the enigmatic void to uncover more.