A small bundle, wrapped tightly in dark fabric. Too deliberate. Too human. I crouched and carefully unwrapped it. Inside was a worn wooden box. Inside that—an old silver locket, heavy, tarnished, etched with strange symbols that made my skin prickle. When I looked up, the deer was already backing toward the woods, pausing as if waiting. Against my better judgment, I followed.
The forest grew unnaturally quiet. No wind. No birds. Just silence pressing in. The trail led to a hidden clearing where an enormous, ancient oak stood twisted against the sky. The deer waited beneath it—then vanished. At the base of the tree, the ground had been disturbed. I dug and uncovered a stone tablet carved with the same symbols. Beneath it lay a sealed parchment. I opened it.
“For the one who is chosen: The truth is not safe. This is only the beginning.” That night, I barely slept. By morning, I was searching old local records. What I found chilled me: a nearly forgotten legend about a secret order guarding something called The Veil.The symbols were their mark. The deer, their messengers.
And the locket?
A key.
Not everything in the woods is random.