Emma had always been drawn to the old oak tree at the edge of the woods. Its gnarled branches twisted into the sky like ancient fingers, and its roots dug deep into the earth, forming hidden hollows and secret pockets. Even as a child, she had felt a strange connection to it, as if it were alive in a way no other tree could be. The neighbors often whispered tales of the oak’s strange powers—some claimed it had been there for centuries, older than the town itself. Others warned it was haunted, that shadows moved under its branches, and that those who lingered too long might see things that weren’t meant to be seen. But Emma had never cared. There was a quiet magic in its presence, something comforting yet tinged with danger, that drew her back time and time again.
