When Devin turned fourteen, they left her in the forest.


    They handed her a small flask of water and a knife—nothing more.


    “Walk until you find what you’re looking for,” her mother had said.


    “What am I looking for?” Devin had asked.


    Her mother didn’t answer.


    Devin walked for hours, her steps crunching over fallen leaves, her breath sharp in the cold air.


    When fatigue overtook her, she collapsed under an ancient oak and drifted into a restless sleep.


    In her dreams, her grandfather, the old Shaman, appeared before her.


    “You’re afraid,” he said, his voice low and steady.


    “Yes,” she whispered, her chest tight.


    “Good. Fear is your teacher. It prepares you to grow.”


    When Devin awoke, the forest was shrouded in mist.


    The world around her felt alive in a way it hadn’t before. She could hear whispers carried on the breeze, voices calling her name from the shadows.


    Shapes began to form in the fog—dark faces and shifting bodies that moved like smoke but felt solid.


    They circled her slowly, their presence both threatening and familiar. Devin’s hand tightened on the knife, but she didn’t raise it.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    The figures whispered things she couldn’t fully understand: fragments of stories, warnings, promises. Their voices sank into her skin like cold rain.


    One of them stepped out of the mist, moving closer.


    “Who are you?” Devin asked, her voice trembling.


    The figure stopped, and the mist fell away to reveal a woman impossibly old. Her hair was white as bone, her skin lined with the weight of ages.


    “Who are you?” Devin repeated.


    The woman’s hollow eyes met hers. “I am you,” she said, her voice quiet but certain.


    “I am what you become after a thousand mistakes and a thousand lessons.”


    Devin felt the air shift. The woman’s eyes were like mirrors, and in them, Devin saw herself—her life unfolding in flashes.


    She saw her failures, her triumphs, the moments she would fall and the times she would rise again. She saw love and loss, anger and peace. It was all there, stretching endlessly into the distance.


    The old woman raised a hand, her fingers trembling. “Step forward,” she said.


    Devin hesitated. “Why?”


    “Because to grow, you must embrace what you will become. Even the parts that frighten you.”


    With trembling steps, Devin moved closer. As she reached for the old woman’s hand, the mist around them began to spin, faster and faster, until it swallowed them both whole.


    When Devin awoke again, the forest was still and bright with morning light.


    The flask of water lay untouched beside her. The knife rested at her side, forgotten.


    But in her chest, where fear had once taken root, there was now something else: a seed of strength.


    She rose, dusted the leaves from her clothes, and began the long walk back.


    She didn’t need her mother to tell her what she’d been looking for. Devin knew.


    Herself.