The forest felt alive — breathing, whispering, watching. The air was too cold, too wet, too aware. Each step sank into the soil with a sound that echoed longer than it should have. The lantern flickered in the protagonist’s hand, the dirty glass spilling a weak, trembling light that barely scratched the darkness.

The vampire friend walked ahead, too quiet, eyes catching faint glimmers of red whenever the light brushed across them. They were looking for something, or someone, or maybe just a reason to prove they weren’t afraid. Their voices tangled with the wind — nervous laughter, whispered names, the rustle of branches.

Then the flame died. No gust. No warning. Just the kind of darkness that feels like it’s swallowing sound.

The forest froze. And then came the touch — cold fingers at the back of the neck, a breath too close, and a rough sound, half growl, half moan, before teeth broke skin. Pain and heat burst together, flooding every nerve. The world tilted, heartbeat pounding loud enough to drown thought.

The friend shouted, voice cracking with terror, begging the other vampire to stop — but it was already too late.

When sight returned, the attacker was leaning against a tree, the night wrapping around him like a cloak. His eyes burned faintly crimson. He ran his tongue across his lips, wiping away what remained, and smiled — slow, deliberate, cruel.

The forest exhaled again. And this time, its breath carried a new sound — a quiet, welcoming whisper, as if the darkness had just claimed one more of its own.