In a realm woven from the fabric of echoes, where time forgot its pace, a voice whispered. It was not one of flesh and bone, but something older—an essence that lingered like persistent morning fog.
Evelyn drifted through the obsidian trees, their trunks etched with ancient symbols that pulsed with a light all their own. She had come here—into the depths of Lathandor Forest—pursuing a melody only she could hear.
"The past is but a shadow," the voice echoed, "and the future, a reflection."
Her heart raced at the sound of it, a truth that rumbled like distant thunder. She paused beneath the canopy, where tiny beams of sun dappled the ground, illuminating her path in a way that was not quite natural.
Each step she took drew the world into sharper focus. The whispers of the trees transformed into words, fragmented yet potent: histories of places unseen, stories of spirits unnoticed. She came across figures carved in stone, their expressions eternally poised in silent expression.
"What do you seek, traveler?" asked the unseen voice, wrapping around her like a cool breeze.
"I seek... understanding," she replied, unsure if her words would carry across the void.
And then, as if in response, the winds began to swirl. Leaves danced upon unseen currents, forming a spiral of shimmering green and gold—a portal to moments unrecorded in time.