The clock on the wall ticked once, breaking the silence. Selene froze, her eyes darting toward it. The hands had moved—barely—but enough to catch her attention.


    She approached the clock cautiously, her pulse pounding. Its face seemed different now, the numbers faintly glowing in the dim light. She reached out, her fingers brushing the glass, and a sudden thought struck her.


    What if this isn’t about trust? What if it’s about understanding?If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    She backed away, her mind spinning. If she ignored the voice, the letters, the signs, she might never find the answers she sought. But if she stepped outside, she risked walking straight into the unknown.


    Finally, she grabbed her coat, flashlight, and the clock from the wall. The weight of it in her hands felt like an anchor, a reminder that she wasn’t walking into this blindly.


    Before opening the door, she turned to the room, scanning it one last time. The flickering firelight danced across the pages of the diary, its words etched into her mind:


    "The hollow tree bears witness. The path to understanding is marked in its roots."


    Taking a steadying breath, she stepped outside.