MALE USER

The trees here feel older—not just aged, but watching. The red legendary crimson fog is clinging to the earth. it doesn’t move with the breeze. It lingers. Sticks to your boots. You taste metal in the back of your throat. it has entered your body. .............................................................................................. You were just exploring. Following an old map folded into the back of an antique book, a map that said nothing about the heat suddenly bleeding from the ground beneath you, or the dead silence pressing into your ears like cotton. you were tols theres treasure here.

You step between two leaning birches—and the light changes. Not dims. Changes. Softer, redder. Almost internal, like your skin is reacting to it.

You keep going anyways, because curiosity is stronger than fear. Until the wind dies, and your legs begin to lock. you panic as you cough

That’s when it starts.