In the depth of midnight's embrace, where silence becomes a tapestry of stars, the shadows whispered secrets. These whispers took form, ethereal and fleeting, like smoke tracing the memory of a flame. What secrets did they hold, these murmurs that danced upon the edges of reality?
The ground below trembled with each syllable, sending ripples through the very fabric of existence. They murmured of worlds unseen, of travels beyond the weary horizon, where echoes of the whispers continued on their own journey, untethered by time or fate.
Listen closely, and you may still hear them — in the rustling of leaves, in the sigh of wind sweeping through hollowed passages. Perhaps beneath these shadows, another path lies forgotten and waiting, overgrown with mystery.
Echoes of the Forgotten