Echoes of the Past

The days following the journal's discovery were tense. Maya threw herself into research, her determination fueled by the knowledge that the battle was far from over. She reached out to Elara, hoping the elder woman might have insight into what Felix's notes meant.

Elara's response was cryptic. "The cycle of light and shadow is eternal," she said over the phone. "But where shadows linger, so too does the strength to overcome them. You've already proven your resolve, Maya. Trust that it will guide you."

Despite Elara's reassurances, Maya couldn't shake her unease. Her dreams were plagued by images of Felix standing in the clearing, his face pale and his eyes glowing faintly red. In the dreams, he spoke to her, but his words were muffled, lost in the haze of her subconscious.

One night, she awoke to find her bedroom window open, though she was certain she had locked it. A faint breeze stirred the curtains, carrying with it the scent of smoke and earth. She rose cautiously, her heart pounding as she checked the apartment. Everything seemed normal, but the feeling of being watched was unmistakable.

The next day, she found a photograph slipped under her door. It was of the ancient tree, but something about it was different. The tree's gnarled branches seemed to twist into the shape of a face, and its hollow trunk burned with a faint, red light. Written on the back were the words: "The past is never truly gone."

Maya brought the photo to Mr. Park, who studied it with a frown. "Someone's trying to send a message," he said. "The question is whether it's a warning or a threat."

"Either way," Maya said, her jaw set with determination, "we can't ignore it. The answers are out there, and we're going to find them."