There is a place off the beaten path where no map breathes life. It curls through the woods, where sunlight tickles the leaves and the silence hums with a gentle loom of memory. Here, in the heart of the forest, whispers tell tales of restless winds and forgotten names.
Rusted signposts stand sentinel at the clearing, arms stretched toward uncharted ruins. Etched names and distances worn by time shelter the echoes of journeys long dusted. Each marker tells a story, in shades of history that hang heavy but comforting. Another life — another choice.
Explore the dreamsBeneath the brush hides a trickling stream, its murmur lulled to an eternal serenade, splashing over rocks with laughter unshed. Footprints ghost along the banks, always just a touch removed, tangible yet untouched. They speak loudly — softly, persistently.
Visit the Ridge