Page 43 of Veiled

“Forest remembers fire—could it be a forest’s name around here? That’s where you were going with the map, right, Lee?”

“Yeah,” I say, flipping through a local topography map. “That was my first thought. Fire, or something that burned.”

“Maybe ‘Ash’?” Sasha offers.

“‘Burnt,’ maybe?” Matt adds.

“Path could mean a decision,” I suggest.

Sasha shrugs, “Or we have to look for a direction rune.”

“Or it could be literal. A trail,” Matt counters. “Maybe a trailhead.”

My pulse picks up as an idea hits me. “I could be totally wrong, but…”

Matt leans forward. “What are you thinking?”

“On one of my running paths, there’s this tree—I always thought it was rotting halfway up the trunk. But what if it’s not rot? What if it’s a burn scar?”

“Gods, you’re my favorite,” he grins.

Sasha’s eyes light up. “And the path part…it says that’s where the path begins. Is there a new trail that starts there?”

“No, not one that’s obvious,” I admit, deflating slightly.

“Well, we can’t get everything at once, let’s go!” Sasha says, already standing.

I hesitate. “What if that isn’t it? We’ve already spent so much time digging through maps.”

Matt looks at me evenly. “What’s your gut say?”

“That this is it. But I still can’t figure out what the second part means.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he says, no hesitation in his voice. “If you think that tree’s the place, then that’s where we’re going. We don’t have any better leads.”

With only an hour left to solve the riddle, we head across campus, slowing when we pass other students from our class. Some are alone, heads bent over maps or phones; others move in pairs or clusters, whispering like conspirators.

By the time we reach the forest at the northwestern edge of the glen, fifteen minutes have already vanished. The air cools as we step beneath the trees, the chatter of campus fading behind us until all that’s left is the sound of our breathing and the crunch of leaves as we walk deeper into the woods.

Sasha wraps her arms around herself, and I’m pretty sure it’s not from the chill.

“I can’t believe you run out here alone,” she says, looking around the forest like we’re going to be attacked at any second. “I’ve been in here for a minute, and I already feel like we’re being watched.”

“You get used to it,” I tell her. “The worst thing I’ve seen out here was a pair of porcupines with a more active sex life than me.”

“Please, tell me you didn’t watch,” Matt says, grinning. “I’ll buy you some porn if you’re that desperate.”

“Ew! No, I most definitely did not watch!” I swat his arm, and he laughs as we round a bend in the trail.

“Okay, the tree is right up here…” I say.

We round the corner, and there it is.

The tree looks different in the evening light—taller, older, stranger. The large black patch that marks the tree isn’t just a scar; it’s an almost perfect band of char, like someone branded it on purpose.

Sasha slows to a stop. “Okay, that’s definitely not rot.”

Matt whistles low.