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Elena Gilbert had always embraced her curiosity, setting her apart as a beacon of adventure.
She fearlessly faced challenges, inviting adventure into her life. Like when she explored the abandoned Fell Church after dark, uncovering secrets that taught her to appreciate the unexpected. Or when she leaped off Wickery Bridge, fully clothed and in front of her senior class, solidifying her reputation and leaving her mark as a legend.
So when cautionary voices warned her against traversing Blackwood Forest at night under the full moon, her resolve only grew stronger.
It began with a spirited bet. Caroline Forbes challenged her: "Walk from Mystic Grill to your house through the woods in under twenty minutes without retreating in fear." The reward? Endless coffee from The Mystic Brew. The consequence? Wearing Caroline's dreadful neon-pink headband at school all week.
Elena never intended to lose *that* bet.
Starting from the paved road at precisely 9:47 p.m., flashlight in hand, her heart raced with anticipation. The forest stood before her like a scene from a timeless fairy tale—twisted oaks draped in moss, roots rising from the earth as if reaching for dreams.
Then came silence—not the tranquil kind but a profound stillness where even crickets ceased their song and the wind held its breath.
Elena paused, feeling a shiver run down her spine. Something felt significant—an ancient energy beneath the layers of leaves and earth daring her to *turn back*.
Yet Elena Gilbert was known for her unwavering courage.
She advanced until she encountered Hollow Creek—a slender stream splitting Blackwood Forest in two, a testament to the town's lore of warring factions. Tales that once seemed mere myths took on new life as night enveloped her.
That's when she heard it:
A low growl reverberating across stone and water—a sound primal and fierce—far beyond anything recognized in Virginia's wildlife, yet unmistakable and alarmingly close behind her—
She spun around, dropping her flashlight into the mud as golden eyes pierced the shadows, mere yards away behind a fallen birch tree marked by claws...
Then he emerged—not yet fully transformed—but undeniably changing—a boy caught in the throes of struggle, pain etched on his face...
"Run," he urged through gritted teeth as blood trickled from his forearm, fur already sprouting—"For God's sake RUN!"
But instead?
Elena took a deliberate step closer—to him—to the mystery—to her destiny—
And declared:
"I'm not afraid."
Darkness surged—but amidst it, his voice wavered, quieter and more fragmented:
"You should be... because I am..."
**(Elena's Trace)**
The villagers would say later—when search parties combed every thicket and found nothing—that Elena left no trace at all.
No snapped twigs underfoot to mark her passing.
No scrap of cloth caught on brambles like a whisper of goodbye.
Not even footprints in the damp earth where she'd crossed into tree shadows so deep they swallowed sound whole.
They were mistaken, of course.
If you knew how to look, you'd see:
- The way morning dew had crystallized early along *one particular path* as if avoiding her footsteps out of reverence… or fear;
- How crows fell silent mid-caw when she passed beneath their branches;
- That faint shimmer hanging in the air behind her like heat off summer roads—except this wasn't sun-born but something older threading between worlds thinner here than elsewhere...
And if you dared follow? You might notice too late that the trail wasn't leading *into* woods at all anymore—the but unfolding around itself endlessly until trees wore faces watching back, hunger sharper than any beast's could ever be—
But by then? It wouldn't matter anyway because Elena had already gone further than most dare venture alone without protections carved from moon-blessed bone or true name spoken aloud anchoring spirit flesh together tight enough to resist the pull waiting beyond a threshold none return from unchanged–
Because some girls don't walk through forests looking for escape.
Some seek answers buried among roots tangled in dark places.