In the still night, the woods cradle whispers. Shadows embrace steps that do not leave marks. You walk the line, a thread pulled taut from origin to destiny. Here, the air is rich with unspoken words, a chorus of echoes waiting to be heard.
Quiet waters, reflect deeper dreams...
The passing of time here is a ritual. Steps align with ancient tunes, pulsing beneath the soil. There's a warmth in the breeze, carrying silent guidance, unseen forces at play.
Revealed Dark Dance
Echoes of Lost Shepherds
Into the Watchful Mirror