As the chilly breeze swept through Hollow Glen, Clara and Thomas sat on the stone bench, flickering lanterns casting shadows around them. Clara flipped the pages of the ancient journal, her eyes lighting up at each new revelation. “Look at this, Thomas! It mentions the King’s secret advisor held meetings in the old oak grove!” “That sounds suspiciously like something out of a storybook,” Thomas muttered, although he couldn’t hide his growing curiosity. Clara’s enthusiasm was infectious, and he found himself captivated. Just then, the village elder, Mrs. Dobson, approached them with a basket of fresh apples. “Ah, you two again! Are you planning to uncover the past or just snack on apples?” she joked. Clara smiled widely. “Both, if we can manage! Mrs. Dobson, do you remember the old oak tree near the river?” The elder’s eyes dimmed, her voice turning serious. “I remember it well. Many come to whisper their secrets under its branches, but it has been years since anyone sought it out for anything more than shade.” Intrigued, they exchanged a glance; the journey to the oak tree would not be easy through the winding paths of the village. “Come on, let’s not waste time!” Clara exclaimed, shooting up from her seat. They left the park, the autumn leaves crunching underfoot. As they walked towards the grove, Thomas tentatively asked, “What do you think you’ll find there?” Clara shrugged, her mind racing with possibilities. “Perhaps more entries that could shed light on the King’s downfall… or maybe treasures!” Just as they reached the gnarled branches of the oak, another figure emerged from the shadows, a mysterious man dressed in a dark coat, his face obscured. “What are you searching for in this cursed grove?” he inquired, his voice low and gravelly. Clara and Thomas exchanged nervous glances as the man stepped closer, his eyes glinting with mischief. “I know of the old legends, just like you, but beware! Not all who seek the king’s secrets do so with noble intentions.” Clara, gaining composure, fired back, “And what intentions would those be?” The man smirked, glancing towards the tree. “You should leave these matters to those who understand. You’re meddling with forces beyond your comprehension.” Just as he finished his warning, he vanished into the thickening mist that surrounded the grove. Thomas shook his head, dismissing the sudden chill that ran down his spine. “Ignore him. Let’s focus on the journal and what it says about this place.” They began to examine the wooden roots of the oak, searching for hidden compartments or symbols engraved in the bark. To their astonishment, Clara found a small carving on one of the lower limbs, resembling the same crest from the journal. “This must be it!” Clara whispered breathlessly. Thomas knelt beside her, brushing dirt away to find a small cavity. With a gentle pull, he revealed a fragile scroll, wrapped in aged leather. “Could it be?” Thomas asked, eyes wide. Clara carefully unrolled it, revealing a tapestry of secrets and tales of betrayal that led to the Forgotten King’s demise. Encrypted within was a map leading further into the woods. “This could lead us toward—” But their moment of discovery was interrupted by the rustle of leaves. Time stood still as they turned, faced with the same mysterious man once more. Now, with a smile on his lips, he remarked, “What was I saying about meddling?” As Clara clutched the scroll, Thomas took a step forward defiantly. “What do you know about this? Who are you?” The man hesitated, then chuckled. “Let’s just say I share an interest in the past… but intentions set upon treasure hunting often lead to perilous fates.” The tension escalated as Clara urged Thomas to remain calm. “We are historians, uncovering stories that matter!” she proclaimed. A glimmer of intrigue sparkled in the man’s eyes. “Then perhaps we are not so different after all. I’ll tell you what I know if you promise to tread carefully. It took generations to bury these secrets, and some are better left hidden.”