In the twilight of untold woods, where the air hums in forgotten tongues,
the Oracles dwell within the grooves of ancient barks.
Listen closely, for the wind carries their murmurs, stitched together from shadows.
Oracle I: "The third moon shall rise over the golden knots,
revealing paths tread in silver ripples."
Dare to question its meaning? Seek understanding here.
Oracle II: "Voices echo from the bark's embrace,
singing hymns of roots that spiral towards stars."
Contemplate this riddle further there.