They weren’t afraid. That was the first thing that struck me.

Two deer stepped out of the woods while I was tossing hay. They didn’t freeze or bolt—just watched me. The smaller one stared right into me, like it knew something.

I snapped a photo, joked online about “unexpected visitors,” and went back to work. Then the smaller deer approached the fence and dropped something at my feet—a bundle wrapped in dark cloth.

Inside was a small wooden box, old and carved with strange symbols. A silver locket rested inside, heavy and cold. When I looked up, the deer had turned toward the forest, pausing as if asking me to follow.

The woods grew silent—no wind, no birds. In a hidden clearing stood an enormous oak, its branches black against the sky. The deer vanished. At the tree’s base, the ground had been disturbed. I dug and uncovered a stone tablet etched with the same markings. Beneath it was a sealed parchment.

“For the one who is chosen,” it read. “The truth is not safe. The truth is not gentle. Follow the signs. This is only the beginning.”

Later, I searched the local archives. An old legend surfaced—of The Veil, a secret order said to guard a hidden power. The deer were their messengers. The symbols, their mark. The locket? A key.

Now I can’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—knows I’ve been chosen.

Sometimes, it’s not the answers that haunt you. It’s that someone wanted you to find them.