A tale unfolds by the silent stream, where an ancient willow’s branches gleam. It’s said that on nights when the moon is low, its leaves share secrets of long ago. A young traveler, weary and lost, once rested beneath its boughs embossed. The tree whispered of forgotten lore—of love, courage, and ancient yore. It spoke of a princess who traded her crown, to save a village from drowning down. Her kindness turned to roots deep and grand, now guarding this like a gentle hand. The traveler awoke ...
