James heard his phone buzz on the coffee table, probably must be Dev checking on him, James ignored it. After about thirty minutes, he finally got up.

That's when he noticed the wall clock. It was 6:00 A.M.

He blinked in disbelief. The last time he'd looked at that clock before closing his eyes, it was around 7:15 P.M. Did he really sleep for eleven hours straight? It was impossible; he had never slept for so long in his life. Even on weekends, he rarely slept for more than six hours.

Today something was different—James sensed a surge of energy he hadn't felt in these three years.

He stood up and walked over to his bedroom. Opening the almirah, he took the box from the drawer with a quiet sense of anticipation and settled onto his bed. His hands trembled as he pulled out the journal and flipped it open, eager to see the pressed flower and the Gaelic writtings once more.

To James's disbelief, the Galelic writings were gone. In its place was a mysterious script in a language he'd never seen before—all written in a silver ink.

"This isn't—" He swallowed. "This wasn't here."

He turned the pages slowly, carefully looking at each one. When he reached the middle part and saw the page he knew had been blank yesterday, he breath hitched. There, in the same silver ink, was an intricate geometric design. 

The diary almost slipped from James hands. He took hold of himself and began to examine it carefully.

He was captivated by the cryptic design—a triangle at the centre, surrounded by concentric circles, and connected by sharp, intersecting lines, all enclosed within a square and accented with unknown symbols. 

When James tilted the page, the design also shimmered exactly like the script, catching the light in impossible ways.

"What the heck?" James muttered, his heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement.

He hesitantly touched the design, expecting the ink to smudge, but it remained perfect.

He closed the journal and then opened it again. The design and the script were still there.

James sat still, unable to discern reality from the impossible.

Feeling suffocated and desperate to clear his head, James got out of bed and dressed in a hurry. He spent the entire day out, watching a movie before heading to a pub, and didn’t return home until 10:00 P.M.

Exhausted, he crawled into bed and drifted off to sleep almost immediately.

That night the dream reappeared...

Everything was exactly as it had been—the forest, those towering pines, and the blanket of stars overhead. There, lurking in the shadows, were those same golden eyes. This time, James didn't hesitate; he moved closer. The eyes retreated as they had before, keeping their usual distance, but their movement has changed. They seemed more curious.

"I know you're hiding there!" James shouted into the stillness. His voice echoed eerily through the forest. "I don't know what you are, but I'm not afraid of you."

The eyes blinked slowly, fixed on him.

"I saw you last night. Do we know each other?" James took another step forward. This time the eyes held their ground. They didn't back away. "I'm looking for answers."

The wind picked up again, swirling leaves around him, and James experienced that familiar, magnetic pull in his chest.

"Silver Crest," he asked hopefully. "Is that where you are? Is that where we'll find each other?

For a fleeting second, the eyes flared with a sudden, intense brightness. It was so brief James thought he might have imagined it, but the light was unmistakable. Then, the forest began to dissolve, reality pulling him back despite his resistance.

James fought it, desperate to stay, but it was useless.

The last thing he heard was that same haunting sound—caught between a howl and something that might have been words.

James reached for the journal the moment he woke the next morning. On a page that had been blank just hours before, was a new, far more complex pattern. This one had what appeared to be phases of the moon incorporated into a geometric design and surrounded with symbols that made his vision blur and his head throb, if he focused at them for too long.

On the third night, the eyes got close enough that James could almost make out a shape in the dark. The same thing happened: he asked questions but there was no reply, and everything dissolved.

The fourth morning revealed a third new design, even more complicated than the last. The lines so detailed that they practically felt three-dimensional in their layering. 

By the fifth morning, James was at his limit. He decided to call Aunt Sarah when he returned from his busy day. At around midnight James dialed her number. It must be evening over there, he guessed. 

On the third ring Sarah answered. "James? Is everything alright?"

"I need to come to Silver Crest," he blurted out, skipping any pleasantries. "As soon as possible. Can you... is that still an option?"

There was a breif pause. James could hear muffled voices in the background. "Of course it is, honey," she replied warmly. "But, What's wrong?" 

He wanted to scream the truth but  forced himself to stay calm, "It's just the pressure of my studies. It's getting to be too much." That was true enough, if not entirely accurate. "I think you were right. I need a proper break."

"Oh, James." Sarah said, her tone soft and sympathetic. "Of course. Let me make some arrangements. I'll need a day or two to sort things out, but I can definitely have you here before Christmas. How does that sound?"

"Perfect. Thank you, Sarah."

"There is no need for thanks. You're family." Another beat passed, and she gently pressed further: "James, are you sure you're ok? You sound..."

"I'm fine," he lied. "Just tired."

After he hung up, James sat in the darkness of his bedroom with the latest design in front of him. It appeared to pulsate softly in the dim light of his phone. James closed the journal.

By next week, James would be in Silver Crest to find out what secrets his grandmother had taken to her grave.

"I'm coming," James whispered to the journal. "Just hold on. I'm coming."

In a forest thousands of miles away, something with golden eyes lifted its head.

And howled.