The gentle murmurs of ages old ripple beneath your skin, like a forgotten lullaby stolen from the sleepy winds. In the cavern's depth, echoes converge to become a symphony of silence.

The moths have woven tales into the shadows where your gaze dare not wander. Tales, obscure and ethereal, whisper softly through flickering tongues of frost.

Have you ever caught the stars whispering secrets among themselves? Here, they say, you can.

Wander further and you may chance upon the comet's tear, lingering in dew, outshining the chiaroscuro made by slumbering oaks.