Along the coastline, whispered echoes and untold stories emerge with the rhythmic grinding of stone against cobble. The tides, being the scribes of their own histories, carve secrets beneath the surf, guard mysteries within the froth.
Symbols that the ancients wrote on the very fabric of ocean breeze swirl aloft, nesting in the minds of those who wait and listen. And it is here, in the silence, where you might learn their meanings without uttering a single sound.
"Here lies the traveler, mere presence assumed by the witness of salt-laden gales; Find the pillar coated with lichens; quiz the creatures that dwell within the pools."
Some say the symbols bind stories, tales never told, like stars in an unfamiliar constellation, illuminating paths hidden from our mortal eyes. To follow their glow might lead one to the edge of understanding, or perhaps plunge into uncharted oblivion, carried gently by the currents whispering fate's design—barely a flotsam.