In the soft crumble of dusk, whispers linger. The aroma of lost legends drifts.
Chapters unfold in half-burnt parchment. A kingdom layered in sweet melancholy.
Once, there were kings, a muffin muse, and dreams crumbled with time.
The river flows, a glaze of syrup over forgotten lands.
Step lightly, for the echoes speak only to those who listen.