They appeared without fear — two deer stepping quietly from the treeline as I tossed hay in the late afternoon light. Usually, deer scatter at the first sound, but these two stood still, calm, and focused. The larger one lingered at the edge of the woods, while the smaller one walked closer, eyes locked on mine as if it carried a purpose. I laughed nervously and snapped a photo, posting, “Unexpected visitors today.” But then, something strange happened — the smaller deer approached the fence and dropped a small, cloth-wrapped bundle at my feet.

Curiosity won over caution. Inside the fabric was a worn wooden box containing a tarnished silver locket etched with symbols I didn’t recognize. The markings seemed old — older than anything I’d ever seen. When I looked up again, the deer was waiting at the forest’s edge, glancing back as though asking me to follow. Against every instinct, I did. The path wound through thick trees until we reached a clearing I’d never noticed before.

At the center stood a massive oak tree, ancient and twisted, its roots curling deep into the earth. The deer disappeared into the shadows as I noticed the ground near the trunk had been freshly disturbed. Beneath the soil was a smooth stone tablet engraved with the same mysterious symbols. Hidden inside a small hollow was a sealed parchment, protected as if it had been waiting for someone.

The note inside read: “For the one who is chosen — the truth is not simple, nor kind. Follow the signs. This is only the beginning.” I stood in silence, the forest whispering around me. The locket in my hand felt heavier than before, as though holding more than metal — perhaps a secret, or a call. I don’t know who left it, or why the deer led me there, but one thing was certain: something far older than me had just reached out, and I had already stepped into its story.