The moonlight bathed the island in an eerie glow as the fog thickened, wrapping the trees in a haunting silence. The air felt alive, heavy with a strange tension, and the distant cries of animals echoed through the dark. The ground beneath your feet seemed to shift, like something was watching, waiting.

With each step, the atmosphere grew colder, more oppressive. The scent of earth and decay lingered, and somewhere deep in the roots of the island, a presence stirred—ancient, sad, and ever watchful. The trees whispered, and the very land seemed to pulse, as if urging you deeper into its grasp.