In the forgotten corners of the ever-whispering forest, where the trees clasp their skeletal branches in silent prayer, there lies a tale woven from the fragments of night. The moon, a ghostly observer, bathes everything in a silver glow, revealing paths untrodden by the light of day.
Once, long ago, this land knew laughter and song—lullabies carried on the wind, sweet melodies that promised safety and solace. Yet, as the years drifted like autumn leaves, those songs faded, leaving behind echoes that haunt the shadows. Now, only the brave dare tread where the veil between worlds is thin, where secrets lie cradled in the embrace of darkness.
We follow a thread spun by hands unseen, guided by whispers that curl like smoke around our senses. These threads are ancient, stretching back to the dawn of dreams, connecting hearts to stories untold. We seek the truth buried beneath a shroud of forgotten lullabies, yearning for the melodies that once danced upon the stars.
Beneath an old stone arch, covered in ivy and forgotten by time's cruel march, there we find the voice of the forest— a soft susurration that sings of things lost and never found. The secrets rise like mist in the morning light, shrouded in mystery and devoid of malice, waiting to be uncovered by those daring enough to listen.