In the depths of night, when the moonlight fades and the last star vanishes, the earth awakens to secret whispers. The wind weaves ancient tales among the branches of age-old trees, and secrets buried by ages linger in shadows few dare to explore.
From that darkness, forgotten souls emerge, whispering names no one remembers, speaking of a time when power flowed like a mighty river, and destinies were carved by fingers of flame and silence.
The sky watches in solemn stillness, a witness to an eternal dance between light and shadow—where every whisper alters fate and every step leaves a mark.
Footsteps echo on moss-covered stones, followed by a thick silence that veils a promise: a new beginning, or an old end.
In this ever-shifting world, secrets dance like smoke, and spirits wait for the one brave enough to reveal them.
Here begins the tale.
Not with a sharpened blade, nor the story of a hero—but with the silence of the cosmos preparing to unveil its truth.
In that moment, when all sounds cease except for the earth's deep breath, the stars murmur their buried secrets, and the unknown stirs behind the curtain of night.
No great light or thunderous roar signals the beginning, but a long hush, like a soft veil wrapping the world in its mystery.
From the heart of shadows, a faint whisper rises—inaudible to most, but heard by those who still carry a quiet light within them.
A fragile, flickering light… yet unyielding.
That voice, unseen and untouched, begins its journey across time, bearing news known to only a few—a return looming on the horizon, a secret buried deep within the world, a spark that might awaken the forgotten.
At this silent dawn, where leaves dance without wind and smoke scatters without flame, a new world begins to form—slowly, like a shadow taking shape in the forest's darkness.
Not all who walk within these shadows know they carry part of this tale, or that their steps may unravel truths that could change everything.
Not all light is born to shine. Not every story needs a knight.
Sometimes, worlds begin with quiet steps, with whispers stronger than any cry.
And so, in the hush of night, within folds of shadow, the tale is sewn—awaiting someone who will listen, understand, and dare to walk through it.
The path is not drawn in light, nor does it follow any map.
It is a trail of secrets and illusions, where truth twists with lies, and past dances with present in a never-ending rhythm.
In these shadows, blind trust finds no place, and soft hearts are tested.
Souls are weighed, intentions laid bare. Every glance holds the weight of an untold story.
When silence breaks, ancient ghosts rise from their hiding places—carrying tales of unsung heroes, foes unvanquished, and dreams left unfinished.
Nothing here is as it seems.
The world that once began as a whisper now weaves its fate with grace and unmatched patience.
In its hidden corners, strange alliances will be forged, buried truths will stir, and forgotten souls will cross paths, their destinies bound like threads of fate.
This tale is not about mighty powers or shattering wars, but of whispers piercing silence, of a faint light in a darkened world.
A journey begins at the edge—where light meets shadow, and the world is born anew.
---
The world spun around itself, as if it had forgotten its path, drifting alone in a sea without end.
Shadows stretched across mysterious plains, silent mountains, and forests that knew only the echo of the wind.
There, old tales flowed beneath frozen surfaces like hidden rivers, carrying broken dreams and buried truths.
This world had no need for glittering champions or mythical glory—only for those who could live among shadows, breathe their silence, and understand the language of absence and waiting.
Its sounds weren't heard by ears alone, but by the heart, by the soul wandering bodiless.
Between faceless winds and ancient soil, a new world was being spun from the threads of mystery.
In the heart of shadows, where past and present blur, and the future dissolves in thick fog, a story waits—one unlike any other.
A tale not written with ink, but told through the eyes of those who've known fear and patience, with spirits that endured, no matter what.
No gleaming sword.
No cry of war.
Only a deep silence, a hidden whisper, and steady steps upon ground that has never known peace.
---
Behind the veil of night, in the forest where the sun never sets, the silence broke with a gentle sound—like distant running water, yet it echoed deep like a sudden shock.
From beneath the roots of the great tree—considered the soul of the continent—a pale glow rose.
Not a light of this world, but something translucent, as if drawn from a hidden spring.
The air trembled.
The ground quaked.
Something ancient had stirred from its slumber.
The whisper of the wind changed, becoming a language only the old ones remembered—one that moved hearts and awakened forgotten memories.
Then, the glow vanished.
In its place, a deep chill lingered—a silent invitation, meant for those bold enough to uncover what lies beyond the shadows.
It was not just an event.
It was the beginning...
Of a new era.
Of a tale written on the wings of silence.