Ever wondered what life would be like if shadows spoke, spilling the secrets they hoard as the sun dips below the horizon? I remember old tales, told over candles, flickering with every gust of wind. Stories of whispers that carried in the night air, leaving echoes on empty streets.
In one such lost chapter, we find ourselves at the edge of the village, where the ground feels different, almost alive and breathing.
A place where shadows dance with the promise of stories untold and paths unwalked.
"You should've seen it," I say, leaning back against the cool stone wall, "like a movie running backwards."
Some say the shadows hide the memories of those who never left.
Imagine stepping through one of those whispered cracks into another realm.
The kind of place you talk about in secret, away from the light of day.