They weren’t afraid. They should have been. Two wild deer stepped out of the tree line like they’d been waiting for me, like they knew exactly where I’d be standing. One watched from the shadows. The other walked straight to the fence and dropped something wrapped in dark clo… Continues…
I never went back to finish tossing the hay. The sky dimmed faster than it should have as I stood there, the locket heavy in my palm, the note’s words burning into my mind. “The truth is not safe.” It felt less like a warning and more like a promise. The symbols on the silver caught the last light, and for a moment I thought I saw them move, like something beneath the metal was waking up.
That night, I left the box on my kitchen table, but sleep never came. Every creak of the house sounded like footsteps. Every gust against the window felt like something waiting. At dawn, I checked the tree line. The deer were gone, yet the sense of being watched lingered. I knew, with the kind of certainty that makes your hands shake, that taking the locket had been an answer to a question I hadn’t meant to ask—and that somewhere, the next sign was already waiting.
