The Veil of the Forgotten

At exactly 4:00 a.m., his sacred hour, he awoke. Stars faded behind the hush of dawn. He washed, geared up, and laced his boots like armor. His cameras flickered to life. With a piece of bread between his teeth, he stepped out into the chill.

This time, he didn’t turn back.

This time, he entered the forest.

This time, he stepped into the story.

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Inside the Veil of the Forgotten

The forest was alive. And ancient.

The trees rose like timeless towers, some so massive it would take five men, hand in hand, to circle one. Vines hung like forgotten prayers, tangled and delicate, while the undergrowth clawed at his legs with every step. The canopy above swayed in slow motion, weaving a roof of ever-shifting green. Though he stood 185 cm tall, he felt utterly devoured by the scale of this ancient realm.

The villagers' words echoed in his memory:

“One day, everyone living in the forest simply left... and built a new life by the sea.”

“No one said why. No secrets were passed down. Just silence.”

“The island may look large on maps, but in our hearts, it's grown small. There are fewer than 200 of us now. Back then, maybe 50 lived deep in the woods.”

If wild animals had driven them away, it might have made sense.

But three hours into his journey, not a single living creature revealed itself. No ants. No birds. No worms. Not even the faint buzz of a mosquito.

The forest bloomed with green vitality, but not a breath stirred.

He was a man fueled by curiosity, not fantasy. His was a logical mind. He only believed in what he could see, and every mystery had to obey the rules of reason. Perhaps that was why his books always sold out, they delivered the truth, backed by proof, no matter how small.

Other wanderers might hear whispers in the wind or imagine shadowy figures slipping between trees. But not him. He wasn’t built for illusion. He was built for facts.

He paused often, capturing images of peculiar trees with his Polaroid camera. Each photo was tucked into a waterproof sleeve. The only sound was the wind sighing through the leaves, soft, endless.

There was no sign of danger. And yet, the silence roared louder than any beast.

Maybe the threat wasn’t behind him. Maybe it waited ahead.

He marked his path with strips of old plastic tied to the trunks, he brought them with him before entering the forest. They would guide him home. If he ever chose to return.

Then, as he descended a damp slope, he saw it:

A cave.

Its mouth yawned wide like it had been waiting for him. Strangely, no vegetation surrounded it for nearly a hundred steps. Just bare earth, smooth and reverent, as if nature itself had stepped aside.

He stopped at its edge. Checked his cameras. Inhaled deeply.

And stepped into the dark, unaware that something ancient had been waiting for his arrival since long before he was born.

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