When shadows dance upon the walls, they tell a tale of those forgotten, of whispers heard beneath ancient flora, where the sun dips low and the horizon kisses the night. Here lies the path untrodden, where echoes of yore murmur truth cloaked in enigma, enveloped in the velvet of twilight, waiting to be unraveled by discerning souls.
Devised yet not delivered,
I am born of the night's breath,
Crafted in silence,
Whispered into existence.
What am I?
Follow the murmurs through the fog-laden woods to the glade of light, where the first constellations were drawn by hands unseen, and there listen—a tapestry woven by the stars will reveal all.
Explore the Echo