In a world where tales often grow from the shadows, there lies a door, partly hidden by the whispers of wind and time. An old garden gnome stood vigil beside it, with one eye forever watching the sky.
"Open the gate, if you dare," it seemed to say, its voice a distant echo in your dreams.
Children spoke of hidden worlds, of sunsets that bled colors found nowhere else, and skies where stars spoke secrets of forgotten gods. Yet, there was a warning carved on the portal's edge:
"Step through only when the moon sings a lullaby to the restless sea."
Do you hear it? The soft hum that thrums like a heartbeat, waiting, watching. Tread lightly on dreams stitched together by dawn's own needle, for they know too well the weight of twilight's embrace.
Follow the Whisper Worlds Beyond