In the soft murmurs of the breeze, truth hides.
The labyrinth speaks to those who know its dialect.
Step lightly, seeker, for the echoes of your footsteps resonate with age-old riddles.
Understanding the maze requires not a map, but a mind still enough to hear the words the wind has swallowed.
Paths loop and twist, mirrors reflect not what is, but what could be.
Within every gateway lies another question, hidden beneath layers of fog and time.