The morning came pale and quiet, the sky washed in soft silver as if the world was holding its breath.
Joy met James near the edge of the Wildwood just after sunrise. He carried a leather pack and an old lantern, the glass scratched and stained with soot. She brought her notebook, a flask of water, and a heart full of questions.
They didn't speak much at first. The forest greeted them with birdsong and the rustle of leaves. Light filtered through the trees in gold-tinted strands, and for a while, it was easy to pretend they were just hikers on an early walk.
But the deeper they went, the stranger the forest became.
The trees thickened. The air cooled. Joy noticed again how the forest seemed to listen—how even her footsteps sounded muffled, like the earth itself was holding them close.
"Are we close?" she asked.
James nodded toward a gap between two wide oaks. "Through there."
They stepped into a clearing, and Joy's breath caught.
Seven stones stood in a perfect circle, tall and weathered with moss. Each was carved with symbols—some matching the ones in the journal, others she'd never seen before. The clearing was unnaturally quiet, like sound itself dared not intrude.
"It's like... a gateway," Joy whispered.
James nodded. "That's what some believe. My grandfather called it a place where time folds."
Joy stepped closer, her hand brushing one of the stones. It was cold to the touch, but something pulsed beneath the surface, like a heartbeat trapped in stone.
Suddenly, the wind shifted. The leaves trembled. A faint shimmer rippled in the air before her.
Then—like before—her name.
Soft. Calling.
She turned to James. "Did you hear that?"
He looked grim. "Yes. And it's louder now."
Joy moved to the center of the stones. The moment she crossed the boundary, her vision swam.
She saw herself standing there—but younger. Laughing, barefoot in the woods. Then the image changed—her mother, holding a bundle of herbs near a stream, singing a lullaby Joy hadn't heard in years.
And then it changed again.
A cloaked figure—The Watcher—stood just beyond the tree line, unmoving, but aware. Ivy coiled gently from its shoulders. Its eyes—deep and silver—locked onto hers.
Joy staggered back, heart racing. The vision faded.
James caught her arm. "Are you alright?"
She nodded, breathless. "I think... I've been here before. Not in this life. But somewhere deep inside, it remembers me."
James didn't look surprised. "Then the forest has chosen you for something. But what, I don't know yet."
Joy looked around the circle. Everything felt more vivid now. More alive.
The stones had awakened something. Or perhaps they had recognized it.
Whatever it was, it had already begun.