In the quiet village of Elmhollow, where time seemed to move slower than in the rest of the world, there was an old legend whispered only by the oldest residents. It spoke of the "Cursed Stones" hidden deep within the forest, a collection of jagged rocks that had been placed there centuries ago by a forgotten people. No one knew who they were or why they had been left behind, but the stories said that those who touched them would never return the same. The stones were said to be carved with symbols that glowed faintly under moonlight, and that their presence caused strange occurrences—dreams of places no one had ever seen, whispers in languages long dead, and the occasional disappearance of travelers who wandered too close. Most dismissed it as folklore, but for those who lived near the woods, the legend was more than just a tale. One summer evening, a young woman named Lira found herself drawn to the forest. She had come from the city, seeking solitude after a difficult breakup. Her father had once told her about the stones, but she had never believed in such things. Yet, as she walked through the thick trees, the air grew colder, and the silence felt heavier, as if the forest itself was holding its breath. She stumbled upon a clearing where the ground was littered with stones, some half-buried in moss, others standing upright like sentinels. The air smelled of damp earth and something sweet, almost like burnt sugar. As she reached out to touch one, the moment her fingers brushed its surface, a chill ran up her spine, and the world around her shifted. The trees swayed without wind, and the sky turned a shade of blue that wasn’t natural. Lira heard a voice, not loud, but clear, speaking in a language she didn’t understand. Then, suddenly, she was no longer in the forest. She stood in a place that looked like a village, but it was older—wooden houses, cobblestone paths, and people dressed in clothes from another era. A child ran past her, laughing, and vanished into the mist. When she opened her eyes again, she was back in the clearing, gasping for breath. The stones were still there, but now they seemed different, as if they had been waiting for her. She didn’t know how long she had been gone, but her watch showed no time had passed. Something inside her had changed, though. She felt lighter, yet more aware of the world around her. Over the next few days, Lira noticed things. She could hear conversations from far away, see shadows moving where none should be, and sometimes, when she closed her eyes, she saw glimpses of other lives—people she didn’t know, places she had never been. At first, it frightened her, but then she began to wonder if the stones had given her something more than just visions. She started to visit the clearing often, each time feeling more connected to the ancient energy that pulsed beneath the earth. The villagers, who had always ignored the legend, began to notice her change. Some whispered that she had become too close to the stones, that she was walking a path best left untouched. One night, she returned to the forest, determined to find out more. The stones glowed brighter this time, and the air was thick with a strange hum. She knelt before them, placing her hands on the largest one. A surge of warmth spread through her, and she saw a vision—of a man, standing at the edge of the clearing, his face worn with sorrow. He was the last of the stone-keepers, the one who had placed the stones there to protect the world from something that should never be awakened. Lira felt a deep sadness, as if she had known him in another life. When she opened her eyes, the stones were silent again, and the forest was still. But something had changed. She no longer felt alone. She knew that the stones had chosen her, and that the curse was not a punishment, but a gift. Yet, as she walked back toward the village, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being watched. And somewhere in the depths of the forest, the stones waited, their secrets still hidden, their purpose still unfulfilled.