In the days after, the world felt slightly misaligned. Lights flickered when I traced the symbols. My phone glitched whenever I tried to photograph the locket. Deer tracks appeared in the mud outside my window, then vanished before dawn. Every trail I followed in the archives circled back to the same whispered name: The Veil. A boundary, a secret, a promise. I don’t know what waits beyond it yet. But the signs keep appearing—and I’m still following.
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