Evelyn found herself captivated by the echoes, they spoke not in words, but in murmurs that danced on the edge of silence. She remembered the old tale of a whispering woods where voices, once lost, would linger indefinitely. Those whispers were incomplete, like fragments of a greater story.
"In the center of the clearing," a voice said, though whether it was the trees or her own mind, she couldn't tell. It suggested a treasure hidden or perhaps a truth long buried beneath the roots of time. She hesitated, pondering if she should follow this trail, but part of her knew she already
There was an echo—yes, that familiar sound reverberating through the silent night as stars watched detachedly. She believed it might be a clue or a message left intentionally or accidentally. It was decisive, but she stood between decisions, torn by the branches of history. She strayed further into the woods until the atmosphere thickened with the kind of presence felt in dreams—