The town of Blackmoor had always been quiet, nestled deep in the forest where the trees grew so close together that sunlight barely touched the ground. It was a place few visited, and even fewer stayed. The locals spoke of it in hushed tones, their voices tinged with something between fear and reverence. No one knew exactly when the first curse had begun, but they all believed it had started with the old stone circle at the edge of the woods. It was said that long ago, before the town was built, the land had belonged to an ancient tribe who worshipped the stars. They left behind carvings on the stones, symbols that no one could fully decipher. Over time, the stones were forgotten, buried under moss and ivy, until a group of young archaeologists stumbled upon them during a summer expedition. They took photographs, recorded their findings, and left without a second thought—until strange things began to happen. First, the students began to dream of a woman with silver eyes, standing in the center of the circle, whispering in a language no one could understand. Then, their dreams became more vivid, more real. One by one, they returned to the site, drawn by an unseen force. Some claimed they heard her voice calling them, others said they saw her shadow flicker in the corner of their vision. None of them ever came back the same. Years passed, and the stories faded into local legend. But the circle remained, untouched by time, its stones worn smooth by the elements. A new generation of townspeople grew up hearing tales of the cursed stones, though most dismissed them as folklore. That is, until a man named Elias Varn moved to Blackmoor. He was a historian, fascinated by the old stories, and he spent his days researching the history of the area. Elias found the stone circle on his third day in town. It was hidden behind a tangle of brambles, almost as if the forest itself had tried to keep it secret. He brushed away the dirt and examined the carvings, feeling a strange pull in his chest. That night, he dreamed of the woman again. This time, she wasn’t just watching—he could feel her presence, heavy and cold, pressing against his mind. He began to research more deeply, pouring over old journals and letters from the original archaeologists. He discovered that each of them had died under mysterious circumstances: one fell into a river and drowned despite the water being shallow, another collapsed while walking through the woods, and the last vanished entirely, leaving behind only a single footstep in the mud. No one had ever found him. Determined to uncover the truth, Elias returned to the circle every night. He brought candles, incense, and a notebook filled with notes and sketches. The air around the stones felt different now—thicker, almost like a living thing. He noticed that the carvings seemed to shift slightly when he wasn’t looking, as if they were changing themselves. At first, he thought it was his imagination, but then he saw it clearly: the symbols rearranged, forming a pattern he hadn’t seen before. One evening, as the moon hung low in the sky, Elias stood before the circle and whispered the words he had written down. The moment he spoke, the wind picked up, carrying with it a sound like distant weeping. The stones glowed faintly, and for a brief moment, the woman appeared—her face obscured, her eyes glowing like twin moons. She looked directly at him, and in that instant, he understood. The curse was not about death. It was about memory. The stones had been created to trap those who sought knowledge they were not meant to have. The woman was not a spirit or a demon, but a guardian of the past, bound to the circle to ensure that the truth remained hidden. Those who came too close would lose themselves, their minds unraveling into fragments of what they once were. Elias stepped back, heart pounding. He had come seeking answers, but now he wondered if some truths were never meant to be known. As he turned to leave, he noticed that the carvings had changed again, this time forming a message in a language he couldn’t read. But somehow, he understood it anyway. "Remember," it seemed to say, "but do not seek." The next morning, Elias was found sitting outside the circle, staring blankly at the stones. He had no memory of how he got there, only that something inside him had shifted. The townspeople whispered about him, saying he had been touched by the old magic. Some said he was cursed, others said he had simply become part of the story. But no one dared to go near the circle anymore. And in the silence of the forest, the stones waited, holding their secrets close, as they always had.