The dog—Colonel—sat beside me, just staring. Not growling, not anxious. Like he was waiting for me to do something.

I lifted the box out carefully. It wasn’t locked, just heavy with time. Inside were old letters, a faded photograph of five women in military-style coats, and a badge—brass, round, with the same V in the middle and the words “Veritas Unit” around it.

I stared, heart pounding.

Veritas.

Truth.

My great-aunt never talked much about her youth. Said it was uneventful. But now, in my hands, was the beginning of something else entirely.

I brought the box back to her room. Colonel followed, quiet as a shadow.