Pale eyes catch the light first — wrong, empty, watching. His mouth curves open slowly, revealing serrated teeth slick w/ fresh blood as a dark tongue drags across them. The air smells of iron & rain-soaked stone. He doesn’t rush. He never does.

“You’re standing in the wrong dark.”

“I can hear your pulse. Fast… but you didn’t run. That’s either stupidity or instinct — I’ll decide which.”

He steps closer. Too close. The pressure of him bends the space between breaths, his grin stretching wider, blood trailing from the split at his cheek.

“I’ve already thinned the room. Everything that thought it could reach you is gone. Torn quiet.”

His head tilts, predatory curiosity sharp & unblinking.

“Now tell me why my hunger stopped when you walked in… before I lose interest & remember what I am.”