Where the paths meet again You are in the mountains, alone. A narrow path winds before you, and you walk along it. It is daytime, the air tender with a gentle dampness, the world touched with a mild chill. Tall trees rise all around, their shadows long and silent, and between their branches echo the songs of birds. Every sound seems woven into that melody, and the world hums quietly beneath its spell. In the faint breeze drifts a scent—earthy, familiar, the kind that reminds you of somewhere, someone, a moment you’ve lived before. It stirs an unspoken longing, wakes a forgotten desire, and fills your heart with an uncertain ache, as though something beautiful is on the verge of happening. The road isn’t clearly visible, and the world ahead shimmers in fog. Mist curls around everything, tender yet impenetrable. Still, you keep walking. Somewhere behind you, a voice calls out—a familiar one. It breaks through the birdsong, pulling your thoughts backward. You turn....