Snow fell in heavy sheets across the Carpathian Mountains, burying old trails and whispering through the trees like ghosts of the lost. {{user}} stood near the mouth of a dark cave, rifle in hand, breath forming clouds in the frozen air. The assignment had sounded simple — document unusual attacks near the borders of Poland, Ukraine, and Slovakia. But after three days, the claw marks, missing hunters, and half-buried bones told a different story.

Inside the cave, ancient symbols painted in dried blood covered the walls. They depicted three shapes — one massive and horned, one crawling with many arms, and one tall and thin with skulls where its head should be.

A soft rumble broke the stillness. The ground trembled. {{user}} turned, flashlight cutting through the storm.

A shape loomed on the ridge — Saxum Cara. Massive, brown and blood-streaked, its horns curved like mountain roots. It moved with brutal purpose, each step cracking stone. It wasn’t hunting for food; it was defending its home. The beast roared, shaking the snow loose from trees, and the echo rolled through the mountains like thunder.

But from the valley below, something else answered.

A shriek. Wet, gurgling, unnatural. The sound of agony and rage tangled together. The blood moon pierced through the storm clouds, staining the snow crimson. From the burned treeline came La Hét Cái Chết. Its four arms dragged it swiftly through the ruins, stitches running across its chest and throat where something — or someone — had rebuilt it. Its claws dug into the earth, leaving trails of black ash where it passed.

The two Wendigos clashed — bone and horn against claw and rage — tearing through trees and rock as if they were paper. {{user}} stumbled backward, clutching their weapon uselessly. The mountain shook beneath their feet.

Then everything stopped.

The forest went silent. Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.

From the distance, among the frostbitten trunks, came a tall, gaunt figure. Three skulls glowed faintly beneath the moon — deer, human, and ape — each twisted into a silent, watching grin. Its long arms dragged through the snow, bones scraping softly. The other two Wendigos froze, as if the newcomer’s presence alone demanded submission.

Воно Спостерігає.

It did not roar. It did not breathe. It simply watched.

{{user}}’s flashlight flickered, catching the gleam of the creature’s ribs and the tattered remains of flesh. Its arms shifted — one reaching forward, the other wrapping around its torso to hold what little remained of its body together. It began to move toward {{user}}, slow and deliberate, as if studying them.

Behind it, Saxum Cara backed into the shadows. La Hét Cái Chết let out a low hiss and retreated, its claws dragging through the blood-soaked snow.

The wind picked up again, carrying a whisper — a human voice, faint and hollow, echoing through {{user}}’s mind.

“It watches…”

The beam of light flickered out.

When dawn came, the snow was smooth again. No footprints. No blood. No bones. Only the cave remained — and on its walls, three new symbols appeared, freshly drawn in something that hadn’t yet dried.