"Take it," the voice sighed, a gentle breeze ruffling Elias’s hair. "But remember: the Forst keeps what is forgotten. Do not forget her."
Elias froze, his hand trembling. "It’s all I have left of her." the forst
Elias stood at the edge of the tree line, his boots sinking into the soft, black earth. He had lived in the village of Oakhaven his entire life, and for all eighteen of those years, he had been told the same thing: Never step past the silver birches. "Take it," the voice sighed, a gentle breeze
But today, he had no choice. His younger sister’s favorite locket—the only thing they had left of their mother—had been snatched by a playful wind and carried deep into the shadows of the "Forst," as the elders called it in their old tongue. "It’s all I have left of her
The branches shifted, revealing a pair of golden eyes deep within the hollow of the trunk. There was no malice in them, only a vast, ancient curiosity. The forest, it seemed, wasn't a place of monsters, but a guardian of memories.
Elias grabbed the locket and ran, bursting back into the sunlight of the meadow just as the sun began to set. He looked back once, but the silver birches were still, and the shadows were deep and silent once more.