Entry 87z38:
The Land of Whispering Moss... listen, they say it's aging with grace.
The rivers flow not water, but time, spiraling in dimensions once grasped by stars.
Cartons of silence drift lazily across the horizon, sealing secrets...
Plan of Fort Eldritch, under moonless canopy:
Archers await atop elder trees, vigilant for whispers which betray footfalls...
Guard lines drawn, amulets of clarity hung beneath worn shields.
Danger lies not in encountering specters but forgetting their names.
On the borders of Klydescent Shire, here lies a garden where...
each blossom speaks a poem, fading upon dew's touch.
Unmarked paths grow only when walked, light twisting amongst forgotten tomes.
Do not tread where sunflowers bow.