In the dance of shadow and light, ceremony murmurs across time. They called it "The Whispering Code" — a series of patterns, etched in sun-weathered stone tablets, now long-worn. Echos linger through corridors forgotten by footsteps...
It begins with counting steps —six to the west, five under the wolf's grin, lest the moon bettered you. Hands on damp earth, secrets finger-aligned under ageless stars...
Within the confines of language lies the ghost of understanding. A craft elevating sense beyond mere reasons. Decode the resonance and the trees speak in slow ponderous rhymes:
"Never stand under bough at noonrise.
Pitch of heart deflects the passage when Timeman's mark aligns with yours."
Those devout to guardians of wisdom keep the pathways quiet. Anonymity bears the bravest cloak, after all.