The cold deepens.

Your breath curls in front of you, misting despite the warm night. The shadows thicken, stretching toward you like curious fingers.

You call out — once, twice. No answer.

But something listens.

And then a voice, smooth and hollow, slides through the dark:

”…You feel me, don’t you? Good. Those who ignore their fear never last long.”

A faint glimmer — bone-pale — flashes far behind the trees.

“Keep your eyes open. I like watching the moment instinct becomes understanding.”

You are alone. And absolutely not alone.