The locket was colder than it should have been, its weight wrong in my palm. The symbols seemed to move when I stared too long, as if rearranging themselves into a language I once knew but had forgotten. The warning on the parchment echoed in my mind: the truth is not safe, the truth is not gentle. This wasn’t a gift — it was a test.
After that, the world felt slightly out of place. Lights flickered when I traced the symbols. My phone glitched whenever I tried to photograph the locket. Deer tracks appeared outside my window overnight, only to vanish before morning, like proof that something was watching.
Every trail I followed led to the same whispered name: The Veil. A boundary. A secret. A promise. I don’t yet know what waits beyond it — only that the signs keep appearing, and I’m still following.
