Morning light spilled across the kitchen table, but it did little to soften the unease that lingered from the night before. Lena's grandmother moved about silently, her hands busy with the teapot, but her mind clearly far away. Every so often, her eyes flicked toward Lena's bag, as though she could sense the journal hidden inside.
"Grandma," Lena began, hesitating, "what did you mean last night… about doors that shouldn't be opened?"
Her grandmother froze, the teapot halfway to the cup. For a moment, she didn't answer, her lips pressed into a thin line. Finally, she set the pot down with a small clatter.
"I made mistakes when I was younger," she said quietly. "I thought I was brave enough to handle the unknown. But some secrets do not want to be uncovered, Lena. They change you. They take from you. I locked that journal away to protect us both."
"But what's at the cliff? What door?" Lena pressed, her curiosity burning brighter.
Her grandmother's hand trembled slightly as she tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear. "If you go there," she whispered, "you won't come back the same. Some things once seen cannot be unseen."
Her voice broke on the last words, and for the first time, Lena saw not just fear but sorrow in her grandmother's expression like a wound that had never healed.
The warning should have scared her. But instead, it deepened her resolve. If her grandmother had seen something extraordinary, something powerful, then Lena wanted needed to see it too.
That night, when the cottage was quiet and her grandmother's soft snores drifted down the hallway, Lena sat in bed with the journal spread across her lap. Her fingers traced the final X on the map.
And she decided.
Tomorrow, she would go.