Within the heart of mist, golden tendrils weave through thoughts whispering echoes forgotten by time. Draw the circle distorted into the void, mirror the whispers of silence.
Patterns emerge, a dance upon reclamation, as dawn bleeds intricacies unknown, darkly illuminating the unspoken. Study the patterns.
Steps leave imprints in the untraveled, yet of these, only shadows remember. Each step, every echo.