Deep in the heart of an ancient forest, where light barely touched the mossy floor and silence reigned, the villagers whispered of a place known as the Whispering Woods. It was said that if you stood still long enough, the trees would speak—not with words, but with memories.

Elara, a curious and fearless girl from the nearby village, ventured into the forest alone one twilight evening. She had always felt a strange pull toward the woods, like something unfinished waited for her among the shadows. As she walked deeper, the air thickened, and a soft hum began to rise around her—a sound not of wind, but of voices long past.

She paused by an ancient tree with bark dark as night and roots that curled like fingers gripping the earth. When she pressed her palm to its surface, a vision flooded her mind: a village once buried deep within these woods, thriving, joyful—until it was swallowed by silence.

The woods had not cursed them, Elara realized—they had protected their secrets. And now, through her, they could be remembered.

Elara returned home at dawn, her eyes wide with wonder and her voice full of stories. From that day on, the village no longer feared the woods—they listened. Because in the silence of the trees, the past still spoke, and the forest no longer whispered alone.