Every footstep upon the moss bore witness.

The circle completes, the constellation of whispered oaths.

Let the moon guide you beneath the branches, silent sentinel.

Through the woven reeds, where echoes call your name—yet you are not there.

Gather around the fire, the embers’ last flicker paints sky-bound shadows.

In the grain of a song, lost to time but cradle songs never forgot.

The thread of silence holds, a loom spinning the age-old mystery:

A name unfurls—a secret awaiting the brave who dares to listen.

Beyond the Fog
The Darkened Path