Once upon a time, in a whispering forest, clocks ticked like butterflies. They opened and closed, soft secrets flying on the wind.
Carried by the breeze, the tales end two-fold—some start, while others finish, intertwining like roots beneath emerald moss.
An invitation lies under the moonlit floor: The Guardians of Lost Stories
Little river stones sing songs older than dreams. Songs of the spring when stars danced freely beneath the sun's shy glow.
“Can you see the echo?” asked the wind. It swirled faster, tickling the silence with its shivering melody.
A door of light stands waiting at the grove’s edge. Beyond it, fingers reach toward unmade skies, playing hide-and-seek with daybreak.
The forest knows more than it tells. Does your heart remember? Find answers here: Hidden Steps of the Past
Whispers will always lead you somewhere—can you hear where they dare to take you?