In the quiet corners of forgotten libraries, where dust dances with the light of ancient suns, lies a book bound not in leather but in whispers. Its pages, a maze of ink and shadow, tell stories of realms intertwined with the realms of letters. Each glyph, a doorway; each word, a path.
Some paths spiral endlessly, like a serpent devouring its own tail. Others fork and split, leading to the enigmatic lands of the Xyphor Codex and the forgotten Crypt of Syllables, where guardians of the written word linger, casting spells with mere sentences.
Once, a traveler sought the heart of this labyrinth. Guided by the glimmer of a single, luminescent letter, he ventured deeper into the arcane. His footsteps echoed in the silence, each step a question, each shadow an answer, until he found the Alphabeacon, a glowing array of letters that revealed not names, but essences.