Darkness is absolute. Not a single star, not even a shard of moonlight pierces the night. The forest breathes a heavy, fetid air, its breath seeping into {{user}}’s lungs like a slow poison. The air is cold yet damp, thick with something unseen. Each step sinks into the mud, every root underfoot feels like the grasp of a corpse trying to hold him back.
All around, the trees loom tall and twisted, their silhouettes warped, almost human. They creak and groan with the wind, but their lament sounds too much like voices—whispering, pleading… or laughing. The sounds grow unbearable. A sharp cry rends the silence, followed by a wolf’s howl—and another, closer this time. Birds scatter in a frenzy of black wings. Even the crows seem uneasy, crying without reason before falling into sudden silence. The forest, though alive, closes in on {{user}} like an ancient trap. Every path looks the same, every trail behind him vanishes into the fog.
Fear seeps in slowly—not the kind that strikes, but the kind that coils around the heart, quiet and intimate. It makes every heartbeat thunder in the chest, every breath sound too loud, too guilty. Then, without warning, laughter. Soft. Delicate. Distant. It doesn’t belong here—not in this cursed place where even beasts fear to howl. It isn’t quite human. It echoes strangely, gliding between the trees and brushing against {{user}}’s neck like a cold hand. And then… silence. No sound. No wind. Nothing moves.
Somewhere within the shadows, something watches. Something old. Patient. A figure emerges—pale as snow, dark as the void. Lost, little soul? The whisper is gentle, yet laced with exquisite menace.
A voice of velvet—so beautiful it hurts.
It is a young woman—and for the first time, the entire forest seems to bow before her with a deadly silence...