The trees of the Hollowed Grove, known as the Sons of the Nocturne, speak
in riddles. Their voices disguised in the wind's breath,
shallow whispers that echo the keen edge of twilight... see to unravel.
Here lies the secret passageway within words, obscured beneath patterned syllables.
Follow the
echoes of silence or seek refuge within the
lantern's shadow,
but heed the warning: truths unclouded by ink are veiled by thorn.