In the shadows, directions unfold—a map of soft murmurs, tracing forgotten roads.
The sky flickers, a memory of stars long muted beneath the weight of stories untold.
Your footsteps echo in the chambers of solitude, where the ground breathes with secrets.
Once, a voice carved this path through the dew-kissed dawn, but now it lies still, waiting.
Amongst the trees, a door of mist opens, revealing glimpses of a land woven from dreams.
Here, time bends softly, a lullaby of moments caught between the tick and the tock.
And there, beneath the roots of an ancient wisdom, lies the map written in echoes.