The village of Elden Hollow was built on the bones of an older world, its foundations laid with stones that had once been part of a temple long forgotten. No one remembered when or why the temple was abandoned, but the people of Elden Hollow knew better than to disturb the ruins that lay just beyond the forest line. The elders spoke in hushed tones about the "Ancient Curses," and the children were warned never to wander too close at dusk. One spring morning, a young woman named Lira arrived in Elden Hollow, drawn by the whispers of an old map she had found in a dusty attic. She was an archivist by trade, and the map hinted at a lost relic buried beneath the ruins. She had no idea what she was getting into, only that the symbols on the parchment seemed to pulse faintly under the moonlight. Lira spent her first days in the village gathering information. The townsfolk were wary, their eyes darting toward the trees whenever she asked about the ruins. A baker named Havel finally broke the silence, muttering that the curse was real and that those who sought the relics often vanished without a trace. He refused to say more, but he gave her a small charm—a carved wooden bird—saying it would protect her from "the watchful ones." That night, Lira ventured into the forest. The air was thick with the scent of moss and damp earth, and the silence was so complete it felt almost alive. The ruins emerged from the shadows like the ribs of some ancient beast. Stone pillars stood crooked, covered in ivy and strange carvings that twisted into shapes resembling faces. She lit a lantern and stepped forward, her breath shallow. In the center of the ruins, she found a stone altar, half-buried in the soil. Atop it sat a small, ornate box, its surface etched with symbols similar to those on her map. As she reached for it, a cold wind swept through the clearing, extinguishing her lantern. The air grew heavy, and the shadows around her seemed to stretch unnaturally. She heard a low hum, like the sound of distant voices whispering in a language she did not know. When the lantern flared back to life, the box was gone. In its place, a single feather lay on the altar, black as ink and humming faintly. Lira picked it up, and the moment her fingers touched it, a wave of dizziness overtook her. Her vision blurred, and when it cleared, she was no longer in the ruins. She stood in the middle of Elden Hollow, the sun rising over the rooftops, as if she had never left. The villagers looked at her with suspicion, but no one asked where she had been. That night, she found the feather tucked inside her coat, still warm. She began to notice things—small, inexplicable changes. The clock in her room always ticked a minute behind. The mirror in her room reflected her face, but her eyes were different, deeper, as if they belonged to someone else. She started dreaming of the ruins again, but this time, she was not alone. A figure stood beside her, its form shifting between human and something else. It whispered to her in the same language she had heard in the forest, and though she could not understand the words, she felt their meaning: *You have seen what was meant to be hidden.* Days passed, and Lira became more withdrawn, her thoughts consumed by the feather and the dreams. She tried to leave Elden Hollow, but the roads leading out of the village seemed to twist and fold upon themselves, always bringing her back. The villagers watched her with quiet fear, as if they had known all along what would happen. On the seventh night, she returned to the ruins, the feather in her hand. The wind howled through the trees, and the sky turned an unnatural shade of blue. The altar was there again, but now it was open, revealing a hollow space inside. She placed the feather in the empty slot, and the ground trembled. A deep, resonant sound echoed through the forest, and the air thickened with the weight of something ancient. The trees bent toward the ruins, their branches forming a path. Lira stepped forward, and as she did, the world around her shifted. The forest faded, replaced by a vast, endless expanse of stars. She was no longer in Elden Hollow, nor in any place she recognized. The stars pulsed slowly, like the heartbeat of something immense and watching. And in the distance, she saw them—figures standing at the edge of the void, their forms flickering between shadow and light. They did not move, but she felt their gaze, and in that moment, she understood. The Ancient Curses were not meant to be broken. They were meant to be remembered.