CHAPTER 2 : THE COTTAGE IN THE CLEARING

Dawn broke, painting the forest in hues of gold and green, the sunlight filtering through the dense canopy in shafts that glittered like liquid gold. Nadia stumbled forward, her legs aching and trembling with exhaustion. Her breath caught when she stepped into a small clearing, and her eyes fell upon a sight that seemed almost too surreal to be real. 

A weathered stone cottage stood before her, its walls aged and cracked, the gray stones overrun with ivy that climbed toward the roof like nature's embrace. Smoke curled lazily from the chimney, a thin wisp rising into the crisp morning air. The melody that had guided her through the endless forest seemed to emanate from within its walls, growing faint yet more distinct as she approached. 

Nadia hesitated, taking in every detail of the scene. The air around the clearing seemed heavier, as if she had stepped into a different realm entirely. The forest at her back grew eerily silent, the constant hum of cicadas and rustling leaves replaced by an oppressive stillness. She swallowed hard, her fingers clenching and unclenching at her sides. 

Her heart raced as she took a hesitant step toward the door. Up close, the cottage looked even older, its wooden door marked with carvings of strange runes she didn't recognize. They glowed faintly in the sunlight, their intricate patterns captivating her. Gathering her courage, she raised her hand and knocked. 

The sound echoed unnaturally in the quiet clearing, but there was no response. Nadia waited, her pulse quickening, and knocked again. Silence. Finally, driven by a mix of desperation and the melody that seemed to tug at her very soul, she pushed the door open. 

It creaked on its hinges, revealing a cozy interior that smelled faintly of woodsmoke and dried herbs. The room was small but inviting, with wooden furniture arranged around a roaring fireplace that cast flickering shadows on the walls. Shelves lined with jars of herbs, peculiar trinkets, and old books surrounded the room, and a single rocking chair swayed gently, though no one was seated in it. 

The melody faded, leaving behind an almost deafening quiet. Nadia stepped inside, her feet sinking into a thick woven rug. Despite the warmth of the fire, a chill ran down her spine. The room felt alive, as though it were observing her every move. 

"Nadia…" 

The voice was faint, a whisper so soft it could have been mistaken for the wind, yet it sent an undeniable chill down her spine. She spun around, her eyes wide, but the room was empty. The fire crackled, and the rocking chair creaked faintly, but nothing else stirred. 

"Who's there?" she called, her voice trembling. 

The only response was silence, save for the crackle of the fire. She turned back to the room and noticed a table at the center, its surface cluttered with dried flowers, candles, and a single object that drew her attention. An old journal lay there, its leather cover worn and faded with age. 

Curiosity got the better of her. She approached the table, her hand hovering over the journal before she flipped it open. The pages were yellowed, the ink smudged in places but still legible. Drawings of strange symbols, maps of the forest, and scribbled notes filled the journal. Each page seemed more bizarre than the last, detailing what appeared to be legends or warnings about the forest and its "Keepers." 

One entry stood out, its words underlined and written in bold strokes: 

"The chosen will return. Her presence will awaken the Keepers."

Her hands trembled as she read the words over and over again, trying to make sense of them. The scar on her wrist, the one she had always dismissed as nothing more than a birthmark, began to itch faintly. She absently rubbed at it, her mind racing. Who had written this journal? What did it mean? 

Before she could delve further, the door creaked behind her. Nadia froze, her blood turning to ice as soft, shuffling footsteps filled the space. She turned slowly to find an old woman standing in the doorway. 

Her eyes were clouded, yet they seemed to pierce directly into Nadia's soul. Her frail frame was cloaked in layers of tattered fabric, and her gnarled hands clutched a wooden staff. Despite her age, her presence was commanding, almost otherworldly. 

"You shouldn't be here," the woman said, her voice trembling but firm. 

"I—" Nadia faltered, unsure of what to say. 

The woman stepped closer, her gaze never leaving Nadia. "The forest has been waiting for you," she continued, her tone heavy with meaning. 

"Waiting for me?" Nadia repeated, her voice barely above a whisper. 

The woman nodded gravely, her expression unreadable. "Yes. And now that you've come, nothing will ever be the same."