Chapter 20: The Stranger's Gift

The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting a golden hue over the quiet village. Birds chirped lazily from the trees, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of fresh hay. It was the kind of day that made people forget their troubles, even if just for a moment. But not for me. My mind was elsewhere, caught in a web of questions and unease.

I had been out running errands when I noticed him—an unfamiliar man standing at the edge of the village square. He was tall and gaunt, his clothes too fine for this part of the country. His face was pale, almost sickly, and there was something about his eyes, dark and deep, that made me stop in my tracks.

The man caught my gaze and smiled, a slow, deliberate smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"Do you live here?" he asked, his voice soft but strangely commanding.

I nodded, unsure of what to say. There was something off about him, something I couldn't quite put my finger on.

He tilted his head slightly, as if studying me. "I'm passing through. Looking for someone who might help me with a small task. Perhaps you could assist me?"

I hesitated. Something inside me screamed to walk away, but my curiosity got the better of me. "What kind of task?"

The man's smile widened. "Nothing difficult. Just delivering something to a friend of mine. It's a gift, you see." He reached into his coat and pulled out a small, ornately wrapped box. The paper shimmered in the sunlight, and the bow was tied with unsettling precision.

I stared at the box, a sense of dread slowly creeping over me. "Why can't you deliver it yourself?"

The man's eyes darkened for a moment, as if I had asked something I shouldn't have. But then his expression softened again, and he gave a small shrug. "It's better this way. Some things… lose their meaning if they're delivered by the wrong hands."

I swallowed hard, glancing around the square. The usual bustle of the village seemed muted, like the world had faded slightly into the background. "Who's the gift for?"

"Her name is Mira," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "She lives just outside the village, near the woods. You'll find her easily enough. She's… waiting for this."

Mira. I'd heard the name before, though I wasn't sure where. There was something familiar about it, something buried in the back of my mind. Still, the unease I felt only grew stronger the longer I stood there, staring at the box.

"I don't think I—"

Before I could finish, the man pressed the box into my hands. His touch was cold, almost unnatural, and I flinched at the contact. "It won't take long," he said, his voice now strangely urgent. "Just deliver the gift. That's all."

And then, without another word, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the shadowy alley at the edge of the square.

I stood there for a moment, clutching the box, unsure of what had just happened. The weight of it in my hands felt wrong, too heavy for its size, as if it held something far more significant than just a simple gift.

I looked down at the shimmering paper, my stomach twisting with a mix of curiosity and fear. Who was this Mira, and why was I supposed to deliver this? I could've just left the box in the square, walked away and never thought about it again. But something about the whole encounter gnawed at me.

Against my better judgment, I decided to deliver the gift.

The walk to Mira's cottage wasn't far. It lay at the edge of the village, just before the woods began, a small, dilapidated house that looked like it had seen better days. As I approached, I felt the unease return, stronger this time. The house seemed to sag under the weight of something unseen, like it was barely holding itself together.

I knocked on the door, the sound echoing unnaturally in the quiet air.

For a long moment, there was no response. I shifted nervously, wondering if I should just leave the box on the doorstep. But before I could decide, the door creaked open, and a woman appeared.

She was younger than I had expected, with long dark hair and sharp, pale features. Her eyes were wide and curious, but there was something distant about her gaze, like she wasn't fully there. Her expression was blank as she looked at me, then at the box in my hands.

"Are you Mira?" I asked, my voice sounding too loud in the stillness.

She nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving the box. "Is that for me?"

I hesitated, suddenly unsure. "A man in the village asked me to deliver it to you. He said it was a gift."

Mira's expression didn't change, but something flickered in her eyes, something dark and unreadable. She reached out slowly, her fingers brushing against the shimmering paper. "I've been waiting for this," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I watched as she took the box from my hands, holding it like it was something fragile, something precious. There was a strange tension in the air, as if the world was holding its breath.

"You've been waiting?" I asked, the unease growing stronger by the second. "Who was the man who gave it to me?"

Mira didn't answer right away. She turned the box over in her hands, her fingers tracing the edges of the ribbon. "He's no one," she said finally, her voice distant. "Just someone who carries things from one place to another. He's not important."

I frowned, feeling like there was something she wasn't telling me. "What's in the box?"

Mira's eyes snapped to mine, and for the first time, I saw fear there. Real, raw fear. "You shouldn't ask that," she said quickly, her voice sharp. "Some things are better left unknown."

Before I could respond, she stepped back into the house, closing the door with a quiet thud.

I stood there for a moment, my mind racing. The entire encounter felt wrong, like I had just walked into something far beyond my understanding. The box, the stranger, Mira's fear—it all left me with a sinking feeling in my chest.

As I turned to leave, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just delivered something far more dangerous than a simple gift. Something that would change things in ways I couldn't yet understand.

And as I walked back through the village, the sun now setting behind the trees, I couldn't help but feel that the stranger's gift wasn't finished with me yet.