Begin with the breath, for it is the hollowest whisper, filling only to leave an echo. Observe the light that bends beneath the door; it does not visit the darkness, but merely passes by, as we all do.
[Hidden Relic Unveiling] Among the forgotten gardens, where shadows knit their tapestry, there lies instructions. A path lined with murmurs offers a map of whispers skirting the edge of permanence.
The ancients would tell you how to breathe colors into monochrome; their voices a low hum, guiding the unwary through fog-laden corridors.
Engage the fragments of your past, not with caress but with the observing eye of a stranger. Realign your gaze, and the forgotten relics of what was turn to specters of what could have been.
Embark onward through secret passages or linger in the whispering trees.