In that hidden grove where paths disappear into mosaic leaves, old whispers seep through the cracks of forgotten stories. They are the sighs of bygone memories, carried on the winds that dance among the branches.
Once, when twilight wrapped the sky in its velveteen clasp, the wind spoke a secret only the brave would dare repeat. Legends carved into the bark of ancient trees spoke of a time when shadows had voices, and sobs tangled with the laughter of young souls exploring those familiar woods.
A figure stood at the edge, cloaked in autumn mist, peering into the heart of the grove. It is said she bore the wisdom of all whispered tales, her voice a melody of rustling leaves and distant echoes.
Listen closely, for the trees hold the words we've long forgotten...