Unlucky Uncle Ungus had eleven days to break the curse, and he still didn't know who started it. He pulled at the faded number thirteen on his t-shirt. Every man who wore that number met bad luck before his next birthday. Ungus had worn it for forty years. His birthday was next week. He needed to find the witch who first spoke the curse, but no one would tell him her name. So he went to the one place that might remember. The old library sat at the edge of the valley, its windows broken and its roof green with moss. A six-pointed star hung above the door. Carved symbols covered the wood. Ungus pushed the door, and it scraped across a floor thick with dust. Inside, shelves leaned like tired men. Books had swelled and split. Ungus coughed and lifted a lantern he'd carried from home. He needed the records of old curses laid in this region. If anyone had written down the first number-thirteen curse, it would be here. He searched for hours. Most books crumbled when he touched them. His fingers turned black. The light outside faded. Then, behind a fallen shelf, he found a locked cabinet. He pried it open with a rusted letter knife. Inside sat one slim ledger, dry and brittle. Ungus opened it with care. Each page listed a curse, a date, and a name. He turned past spells for souring milk and bad dreams. Near the back, his finger stopped. The number thirteen. The ink was faded but clear. Beside it, a single name: Tilly. Ungus read it three times. A witch named Tilly had laid the curse, long before he was born. He finally knew who to blame. He finally knew where to begin. But the date in the ledger stopped him cold. The entry was over a hundred years old. He stared at the word again, then at the line below it. Someone had added fresh ink. The new note read: "Still brewing. The forest is awake." Ungus knew that handwriting was recent. The dust around it was thin. Tilly was not some long-dead witch sealed in a book. She was alive. She lived near the cursed forest, and she was still at work. His relief turned to dread. To break the curse, he would have to walk into the forest and face the witch who cast it. And the ledger's last words warned him the forest had come alive around her. Ungus tore the page free and folded it into his pocket. He closed the ledger and stood. His hands shook, but he knew his next step. He blew out the lantern and walked back into the dark, toward Tilly.