By the time I understood what the locket really was, it was already too late to pretend any of it was coincidence. The symbols matched the tablet. The tablet matched the legend. And the legend matched the one thing I’d always dismissed as campfire talk: a hidden order using the forest as a living wall, keeping The Veil intact, keeping something unspeakable just out of reach.
I wish I could say I walked away. Instead, I started seeing the signs everywhere—carved faintly into old stones, scratched into bark, woven into local history no one really questions. The deer haven’t returned, but sometimes I hear movement just beyond the tree line, like something checking in, making sure I’m still following the path they opened. I used to think the woods were quiet. Now I know better. They’re watching, waiting, and, for some reason, they’re not finished with me yet.
