The village of Elderglen had always been a place of whispers. Nestled at the edge of the ancient forest, its people lived in a delicate balance between reverence and fear of the woods. But lately, the whispers had grown louder, more insistent, carrying tales of shadows and disappearances.
Ivy, the village herbalist, felt the weight of these murmurs pressing against her. Each morning, as she stepped out of her modest cottage, she could sense the eyes of her neighbors following her, their conversations halting mid-sentence. The once-friendly smiles had turned into tight-lipped nods, and the warmth she had known all her life was now replaced with a cold, creeping suspicion.
The forest, however, remained unchanged in its allure. Its dense canopy and winding paths called to her, offering solace from the judgmental stares of the villagers. It was within these woods that she found peace and, perhaps, something more.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the village, Ivy overheard a conversation between two elders outside the tavern.
"Another one gone," said Old Thom, his voice gravelly with age. "Young Elric ventured into the woods and hasn't returned."
"Aye," replied Martha, the baker's wife. "That's the third this month. The forest is cursed, I tell you."
Ivy's heart sank. She knew Elric; he was a kind soul, always eager to help. The thought of him lost—or worse—was unbearable. But she couldn't shake the feeling that the forest wasn't to blame.
That night, sleep eluded her. She tossed and turned, memories of her own encounters in the woods flooding her mind. The gifts left for her—the rare herbs, the polished stones, the carved wooden bird—were not the actions of a malevolent force. They were thoughtful and deliberate.
Driven by a need for answers, Ivy ventured into the forest at dawn. The air was thick with mist, and the silence was profound. As she walked deeper, she noticed subtle changes: trees with bark etched in unfamiliar symbols and stones arranged in patterns that seemed intentional.
Suddenly, a rustle in the underbrush caught her attention. She turned, heart pounding, but saw nothing. Then, a whisper, barely audible, reached her ears.
"Ivy…"
She froze. The voice was neither threatening nor familiar, but it resonated deep within her. Gathering her courage, she called out, "Who's there?"
Silence.
She continued forward, each step deliberate. The forest seemed to breathe around her, alive with unseen energy. Then, in a small clearing, she found it—a new gift. A pendant, intricately crafted, lay atop a moss-covered stone. It bore the same spiral pattern as the polished stone she had received earlier.
As she reached out to touch it, a shadow moved at the edge of her vision. She turned sharply, catching a glimpse of glowing red eyes before they vanished into the trees.
Her breath caught. He was there.
Back in the village, the atmosphere had grown tense. Rumors spread like wildfire, each more fantastical than the last. Some claimed to have seen creatures lurking at the forest's edge; others spoke of voices calling out in the night.
The council convened, and it was decided: the forest was to be off-limits. Anyone found venturing into its depths would be punished.
Ivy knew she couldn't comply. The forest was a part of her, and now, more than ever, she needed to understand the connection she felt.
That evening, she returned to the clearing, the pendant clutched in her hand. As darkness enveloped the woods, she felt his presence again—watching, waiting.
"Why me?" she whispered into the night.
A gentle breeze stirred the leaves, and for a moment, she thought she heard a reply:
"Because you see."