In the valley where dawn whispers to the evening fog, the trees speak in forgotten tongues, and the winds carry tales of long-forgotten songs. Here lies the cradle of enigmatic dreams, where every breath of mist births a story never told. Tales woven from shadows and light, dancing along the border of reality.
Once, during the twilight hours when the world is neither fully awake nor deeply asleep, a figure cloaked in silver appeared amidst the swirling vapors. Her eyes mirrored the stars obscured by mist, and her hair flowed like liquid night, flecked with morning dew. She walked silently, a specter of echoes, seeking those who remembered.
Children of the mist were born from her sighs—phantoms of ethereal beauty, each carrying a fragment of her starry soul. They wandered through the vale, leaving trails of cosmic dust, forever changing the landscape of dreams and memories.
The elders say that these children sing to the forgotten realms, calling forth whispers of the past and shadows of the future. Listen closely, they urge, for the stories are hidden in the rustling leaves and the murmurs of the brook.
Venture further into the fog if you dare. Perhaps you'll meet the stars in their mist-laden births.