On the west side of town, the secrets tree crowns a hill.
It stands tall and alone on the rise, yet it is never hit by lightning. There's almost nowhere in town that you can't see the secrets tree. When the sun sets, its stark skeleton is a gouge in the horizon. When the dawn comes, the first touch of light visible from the town trickles down the dead limbs.
Ravens perch in its branches at night. At dawn, the flock leaves like black smoke, the tree burning in reverse as its branches fade from black to white.
Everyone has spent some time on the hill of the secrets tree, looking down on the town. They go there for lovers' trysts, for quiet picnics and for a lack of anywhere else to go. Confidences come more easily and are kept more close when told on the hill of the secrets tree.
Everyone knows that if you go to the tree alone and ask it a secret, you'll dream the answer that night.
Some people know that this true; but they also know that the price for your answer is the death of someone who lives in the town. They know the ravens come from the tree to mark the passing of a soul.
Only a few know that the tree only gives up its secrets to those willing to name a specific soul who is to fall in return for their answer. They know that the ravens do not merely attend, but themselves bring death. Then, with beating wings and plaintive calls, they drive the ghost of the fallen to you. Harried and torn, the spirit is forced to divulge your answer; and when the tortured soul has given up their secret, it is torn apart and consumed by the flock.