The elder spoke without speaking, his voice a gentle ripple through the fabric of the forgotten woods. Each word lingered, vibrant against the night sky.
“Do you hear the whispers of the pathless realms? They call, they beckon, to those who dare step beyond the veil of known lands.”
Before dawn's first light, the circle of stones held shadows, the air thick with dew and anticipation. The tribe gathered, solemn and silent, eyes alight with the flicker of fire.
"You must tread where none have trod. Seek the echo of your own soul in the vastness. Only then will you discover the truth hidden in silence,” the shaman intoned.
Crossing the unseen threshold, footfalls echoed in the endless expanse. Here, the air hummed with untold stories, each breeze a voice weaving past and future.
A figure emerged, cloaked in twilight, an echo of forgotten days. “Welcome, traveler of the unmarked paths. You are both lost and found,” they murmured.