The ceaseless susurrus that dances upon the brittle bones of the ancient oaks whispers tales only the wind dare recount, tracing scribbles in the dirt—a testament to forgotten legacies; each twist and turn within this labyrinth of shadows mingles with an inexplicable melancholia, a soft breath of midnight carrying you deeper into the heart of unfathomable abyssal eons.
Twisting shadows conceal the flight of time... can you see, the veil trembling?
With every breath of zephyrs' mournful melodies, the undulating path forks and bends beneath unseen eyes in the underbrush who have long tired of observing the monotonous descent of sun into abyss; yet, here in this liminal boundary, night stains its darkening quilt upon earth's canvas, painting luminescent travelers upon its fabric, an alien cartography designed by the architect of all that's uncanny.
Seek, wanderer, if you dare embrace...