In the heart of an obsidian night, the whispers of forgotten dreams flicker like fading stars, casting spectral shadows on silent echoes.
A lone traveler treads upon the veiled paths, where each footfall hears the silent cries of phantoms longing for light amidst the eternal dusk.
The trees, ancient guardians of the shadowed realm, bear witness with luminous leaves that glow in hues of dusky crimson and twilight violets. Beneath them, the air is thick with reveries
Feel the echoes of history in the creaking of branches, the sigh of wind through hollowed trunks. Every sound a song, every silence a symphony. Venture further or remain lost in