Mara didn't take the road to the village.
She walked parallel to it, keeping just out of sight, her boots pressing into the damp edge of the path. The sun didn't warm her. The light felt pale, like it was only pretending to be daylight. Shadows beneath the trees were longer than they should have been.
She spoke as she walked. Not loudly. Not to anyone in particular.
"I know what you're doing. You're not hiding things. You're showing them one piece at a time."
The charm didn't move. The stone stayed cold. But she kept talking.
"You set the table. You lit the fire. You want me to think everything's fine."
She passed the old wooden post near the fork where the village path narrowed into the woods. Her steps slowed. There was something pinned to the post now.
A strip of red cloth. Frayed at the ends. The same shade her aunt wore.
She didn't reach for it.
Instead, she said, "I'm not going back until I find the rest."
No one stopped her. No sign appeared. No sound broke the stillness.
The road began to shift. Slowly at first. The trees leaned differently. The grass along the edges thinned out. The path curved inward where it used to run straight.
Her boots left the dirt path and stepped onto packed earth covered in faded ash.
The smell came before the sight.
Smoke, faint but bitter. Not from a fresh fire. Something older, like it had soaked into the ground long ago.
She followed it without question.
A low stone wall emerged between the trees, mostly crumbled. A boundary marker, or maybe what remained of one. Behind it sat a hollowed-out foundation. No roof. No doors. Just charred boards and stone outlines where a small house might have once stood.
Mara stepped over the wall.
The moment she did, the air changed.
Not colder. Not warmer. Just different... like she'd crossed into somewhere else entirely.
Inside the ruin, vines had crept through the broken stones. A few pieces of burnt furniture were half-buried under soil and moss. The fire had happened long ago, but not long enough to be forgotten.
She circled once. Then twice. On the third pass, she saw it.
A symbol, half-covered by leaves, carved into a fallen beam. The same one as before.
She knelt beside it and pushed the leaves away.
Underneath it, barely visible, was a second word scratched into the wood.
"Remember."
Mara stared at it for a long time.
Then she said, "That's not mine. You're asking me to remember something that isn't mine."
A breeze passed over the ruins. It didn't stir the leaves.
She gripped the edge of the beam. Not out of fear. Just to steady herself.
"Whose memory is this?"
She expected silence again.
Instead, she heard a voice.
Faint. Hoarse. From somewhere behind the stone wall.
"Yours."
She turned sharply.
There was a man standing just beyond the boundary.
She couldn't see his face. The sun hit behind him, casting his shape into shadow. But he didn't move. He only stood there, like he'd been waiting for her to find this place.
Mara didn't step back.
She stood and met his gaze, even if she couldn't see his eyes.
"What do you want me to remember?"
His voice didn't rise.
"Everything."
Then he turned and walked into the woods.
Mara stepped over the wall to follow.
But he was already gone.
No trace in the leaves. No sound of branches moving. Just empty space where someone had just stood.
She looked down at her hand.
The charm was warm now.
The stone pulsed once... soft... like a heartbeat.
She didn't go back to the house.
She sat at the edge of the ruin as the light above began to shift again, pale gold slipping into early dusk.
"I'm not afraid to remember," she said quietly. "But if you want me to see it all, then stop hiding behind riddles."
The ruins didn't answer.
But they didn't reject her, either.
Mara stayed until the sun touched the tops of the trees. Then she stood. And walked deeper into the woods.
***
Although, this time, someone from the village took notice of her.