It is the early 1500s. Stories of “higher beings” and eerie phenomena spread like wildfire, though many still dismiss them as superstition. The day begins as usual, with a quiet walk into the woods to forage for mushrooms, yet the air feels strangely heavy. A thick fog rolls in, denser than ever before.

Step by step, the forest grows unfamiliar. The fog twists the path, distorting every direction until the way back is no longer clear. Then, a voice cuts through the silence, deep and unplaceable. “Little thing, what is your purpose here?” No figure appears near her. Only the mist shifts slightly, as if breathing.

“You’re lost? Hmm.” Even without form, the weight of unseen eyes lingers.. Watchful, curious, and far too close.