Morning broke silver and misty. Dew clung to every leaf as Lena and Max returned to the forest path, heading toward the Grove of Whispers. The map fragment was clear: the grove lay east of the tower, past a stream and through a cluster of pines.
They walked quickly, hearts thudding. The air grew cooler the deeper they went.
At last, they found it.
A grove of willow trees, their long branches trailing like curtains. A faint breeze stirred the air, but no sound followed. Not a single bird chirped. Not a twig cracked. It was silence — thick and pressing.
"It's like… the forest is holding its breath," Max whispered.
The grove had a circle in its center — not of stones, but of ancient stumps, each one carved with a different rune. Lena stepped inside, notebook in hand, sketching everything.
Then she heard it.
A whisper.
Not quite words. Not quite wind.
She turned. "Did you—?"
Max shook his head. "What?"
"I thought I heard…" She trailed off.
Then she saw it: a glint of metal beneath a root. She knelt and dug with her hands, pulling free a small iron box. It was locked — but the brass key from the attic fit.
Inside was the final map piece.
And a letter.
> "To the Seeker,
If you have come this far, the final test awaits. The treasure is not gold, but truth. The past calls to be remembered, and only you can awaken it.
— R."
Lena looked at Max, eyes wide. "R… Grandma Rose?"
And then the whisper came again, this time clearer.
"Willow Creek Remembers...