Turn Left
In the realm of tangled woods
where whispers drift upon dreams,
codes are woven in the whispers—
each step a verse, a mystery gleams.
“Decode the echoes,” murmurs the breeze,
“before the path unwinds and ceases.”
A phantom script lurks in the light,
begging to be read in its twilight.
Follow the trail of shadows and
find solace in silence, a secret's strand:
<foreach> the path <with curiosity>
<left> <right> <return>