Ah, the stone that never cracks—there’s a tale about it that’s been whispered by the river’s wind for as long as I can remember. They say the stone sits in the heart of the old foundation, beneath the cracked walls and the moss that clings to the bricks. Legend has it that when the village was first built, the builders quarried from the riverbed, and the first stone they set in the cornerstone was a single, smooth slab that glowed faintly under the moonlight. The elders say the stone was blessed by a wandering sage who saw the village’s future. He whispered, “This stone will hold the town’s promise, no matter the storms.” The sage left, and the stone was set in place. For generations, the people built their homes and bled their labor into that foundation, and no cracks appeared in that one slab, even when the earth trembled and the walls above it did. They say if you stand beside the stone and listen to the quiet rustle of the trees, you can hear the echo of promises made in that very stone. But I’ve never felt a chill that cold, nor seen a crack that didn’t stay a story. The mystery keeps the village’s spirit unbroken, just like the stone itself. Just remember, the truth of the stone is not in its uncracked surface, but in the steady hope of those who built on it.