In the valley where shadows mingle with mist, whispers of the forgotten ancients call your name. "Step lightly," they murmured, like echoes of long-lost dreams.
Beneath a sky painted with sorrow, the road stretches beyond perception. A fabled path entangled in thorns and thickets, where the apparitions dance joyously amidst the cry of ravens.
Light flickers, teasing the void, a prelude to what lies beyond. Wishes, like paper boats, sail the torrents of despair, mirroring the shimmering void.
Gather, if you must, at the old stone circle where offerings are made to the spirits of the night. Dark and inscrutable, their laughter mocks the living, a resonance of glee intertwining with dread.