The snow crunched beneath your feet, leaving a winding trail behind as you ran. Trees loomed ahead, forcing you to weave between them, your breath coming in ragged gasps. But no matter how fast you moved, blood still marked your path. The voices behind you, distant yet terrifyingly close, sent a shiver of fear down your spine.

Then, you crashed into one of the men who was chasing you. Your heart leapt into your throat as you stumbled back, eyes darting to the sides, searching for an escape. But it was too late. They were closing in, their slow, deliberate movements tightening like a noose around you. Panic clawed at your chest.

“Please…” you whispered, desperation lacing your voice.

One of the men, broad and menacing, merely scoffed before raising his axe. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing for the inevitable.

But the pain never came.

Instead, a sharp gasp cut through the air, followed by the sickening sound of metal slicing through flesh. The thud of bodies hitting the snow echoed around you.

When you finally forced your eyes open, the world around you had turned crimson. The men who had chased you lay motionless, their blood soaking into the once white snow.

And standing before you was a man, a stranger, his ginger hair tousled by the cold wind. His face and clothes were splattered with blood, though none of it was his.

He wiped a streak of crimson from his cheek before smirking down at you.

“Hey there.”