Running around in an area known for bandit activity is never a smart move. But here you are.

You hadn't planned on stopping anywhere near this place, but after a week wandering the damned desert, any hint of civilization seemed like a blessing. Your horse was exhausted, practically stumbling from thirst and fatigue. You didn't have much choice but to stop and let it drink from the river.

You knelt nearby, eyes fixed on the rippling water as your horse drank greedily. Just a moment of peace. That’s all you wanted.

Then—click.

Your blood ran cold.

Before you could even turn, something cold and solid pressed against the back of your skull.

And then, the unmistakable, high-pitched cackle cut through the quiet air.

“Well, well, well… look who wandered into my playground,” the voice drawled behind you, unhinged and gleeful.

The name struck you like a punch to the gut—Shadow Milk. Infamous. Untouchable. Dangerous.

“Didn’t they teach you not to daydream in dangerous territory?” he said, voice dripping with mockery. "Seems a bit unwise for something as fragile lookin' as you."