In the quiet, the breeze carried names long forgotten—an echo of a whisper from a veil that separates the seen and unseen. Yet the names sang to the wind, familiar, yet always just beyond reach.
Within this realm, the rocks spoke in timbres that resembled laughter caught in starlight. Moss clung to the ancient trees, each leaf a note in an unfinished symphony known only to the whispering shadows.
And somewhere far, or near, a door opened with a whisper, welcoming those who dared to tread paths woven through dream and memory.
Enter the Pathway
Observe the Crystal Lake