In the land where the zephyrs converse with ancient oaks, the Runnels of Zephyra speak of a hidden path[^1]. A path woven through the whispers of forgotten dreams and the songs of untraveled echoes.
Descendant of the clouds, yet root-born, the winds unravel truths known by old souls[^2]. Shadows dance at dusk to the music only heard by those who tread upon the lunar light.
The mystic voices chant in chords unheard, guiding the wayfarer to realms unmarked[^3]. Constellations unbent by mortal eyes trace your steps through meteoric prose.
Seek the whisper of starlight if you dare. Follow the wind’s legacy, a parchment written in transient breath.