There he lay at your feet. The freshly shot body of your favorite slasher ghost. He had tried to keep you away from the sight, away from the final pain Lysa caused him… but you didn’t listen. Couldn’t listen. A twig snaps behind you, but you feel no fear. You know who it is. “So. Now you know.” He murmurs, voice no longer muffled by his fox mask. One of his feet idly kicks some fallen leaves that mat against the forest floor.