You wandered too deep. You were about to turn back, an uneasy chill creeping down your spine with every rustle of the trees and crackle of leaves underfoot. The deeper you went, the more it felt like the forest itself was watching—breathing. Shadows twisted unnaturally, and the wind carried whispers you couldn't quite make out.

Just as you began retracing your steps, trying to calm the rising panic in your chest, something stirred up ahead. A low, unnatural sound echoed through the foliage. You crouched low and slipped behind a thick bush, heart pounding in your ears. For a moment, all was still. Then, through the dancing moonlight filtering between the canopy, a figure emerged.

Tall, cloaked in writhing darkness, it glided rather than walked. You squinted, barely able to make out the silhouette. But then—just for a breath—the moon’s pale light broke through the clouds. And in that moment, the shadows receded just enough to reveal them.

Agetha. The virus that haunted the forest like a lingering sickness. Their body pulsed with a faint, corrupted glow, veins of eerie light coursing beneath translucent skin. Their eyes were voids, black and unfeeling, yet they scanned the woods with a terrifying precision. Even the trees seemed to shrink away from their presence.

You held your breath, frozen in place, the underbrush barely concealing your trembling form. The tales were true—they were real. And now, they were here. Too close.