In the heart of the starlit void, where echoes of eternity hum a forgotten tune,
a solitary figure stands, cloaked in the mist of ages past. The air, thick with secrets,
clings to whispered words like dew to dawn. Each breath, a sigh from the lips of time itself.
Once, the trees spoke in tongues of fire, their branches a testament to the vows of ages.
A solemn promise etched in the fibers of fate, unbroken yet unremembered.
Do you hear their call? The wind’s plaintive song, a lullaby of longing, yearning for
the return of the lost words, the binding oath of shadow and light.
“To those who wander, to those who seek, the truth lies in the whispers.”
In the silence, we find solace, in the silence, we find strength. A whisper, a flicker, a resonance in the dark.
And as the last remnants of dusk fade, we stand vigilant, guardians of the oath, the promise, the whisper.