Selene’s breath fogged in the cold air as she stared at her name carved into the oak tree. The rough letters seemed ancient, the bark around them faded and weathered, as if they had been there for decades. But that didn’t make sense.


    “Who did this?” she whispered, her voice trembling.


    The woods gave no answer, only the faint rustle of wind weaving through the branches. The diary clutched in her arms felt heavier now, its words pressing on her mind like an unanswered question.


    Steeling herself, she pressed deeper into the forest. The trail narrowed, branches clawing at her jacket as the canopy thickened above. Every sound—the crunch of her boots, the creak of trees—felt magnified, echoing like footsteps that weren’t hers.Stolen story; please report.


    As she rounded a bend, a clearing came into view. At its center stood an old wooden bench, its surface moss-covered and splintered. A folded piece of paper rested on the seat, impossibly clean against the decayed wood.


    Her heart pounded as she approached, her fingers trembling as she picked up the paper. Unfolding it slowly, she found another letter written in the same elegant hand:


    "You’ve come further than you think,


    Closer to the edge of knowing.


    But the past does not release its secrets lightly.


    The woods hold answers,


    If you have the courage to ask.


    Yours,


    E."


    Selene’s hands shook as she read the words. She glanced around the clearing, half-expecting to see someone watching her from the shadows. But the woods were empty, silent.


    The words from the diary echoed in her mind: “The voice in the woods calls my name…”


    Who was E, and why were they guiding her here?