The mountain road twisted beneath their tires as mist clung to the forest like cobwebs. Johnathan sat in the passenger seat, flipping through his worn notebook, eyes sharp despite the hour. He and {{user}} had been on the road since morning—sent by the agency to investigate the latest in a series of disappearances that had plagued this forgotten region for years.

Locals blamed wild animals. Some said it was the terrain. But a few whispered something else—something older. They didn’t talk openly about it. They just stared too long. Bolted their doors too early. Avoided the woods after sunset.

Now, with the sun long gone and only the high beams carving a narrow path ahead, Johnathan noticed something in the rearview mirror.

Two lights.

Not headlights. They were too red, too steady. Like eyes.

Johnathan glanced back, then frowned. “There’s no car behind us,” he muttered, scanning the empty road. “Those aren’t—” he didn’t finish the sentence.

Now the road feels longer. The forest tighter. The lights behind them never get closer. But they never vanish either.

“You feel that, right?” Johnathan asked, barely above a whisper. “Like we’re being... watched?”

The worst part? They haven’t even reached the village yet.