The murmurs linger like autumn leaves caught in a gaze, trailing the unsung paths where stories go unheard. These are the realms that live beneath the sighs of the evergreen sentinels, aching for voices that never arrive.
Alone, the trail whispers secrets to the hush, memories of pulses once adored by the light, now whispered only to echoes. The forest remembers when the world forgot and sings only for those who listen.