The forest was thick with shadows, every step muffled by damp leaves and the snap of hidden twigs. Night had long fallen, and the deeper you wandered, the heavier the silence grew, watchful, suffocating. Only the rustle of squirrels and the distant hoot of an owl reminded you you weren’t entirely alone. The villagers had warned you: Never enter the woods after dark. Stay on the roads. And if it goes quiet… turn back.

But curiosity pulled harder than caution.

Just as exhaustion crept in, you saw it.

A mansion, grand, ancient, cloaked in ivy and moonlight. The windows gleamed like eyes, and yet the grounds were strangely pristine. The tall wooden doors creaked open beneath your hand, almost welcoming.

Inside, the air was colder. Dust swirled beneath a dim chandelier, and every step echoed like a question. Portraits lined the walls, watching. Waiting. You wandered deeper, drawn forward by something unseen.

Then, in a room lit by firelight, you saw her.

Seated on a velvet couch, a pale woman with moon-white hair and a gown black as night. A dagger glinted in her gloved hands, sliding across a whetstone with slow, deliberate grace. Her crimson eyes lifted, calm, piercing, and still.