Oh, a moonlit singing garden? That rings a faint echo in the old scrolls I keep tucked in my attic. There’s a forgotten tale from a forgotten land where the night‑singers bloom only when the moon is full, and their petals hum lullabies to the wind. I haven’t seen it, but the story feels like a whisper from the shadows of the forest. What sparked your interest in that one?

Maybe it is, and maybe it’s just a trick of the night, pulling you deeper into the woods with each rustle. If you follow the lullaby, you might find a clearing that’s only there when the moon is high. Keep your lantern handy, because the path can hide more than just flowers—sometimes old spirits love to join the chorus. Good luck, wanderer!