The darkness breathes around you. It is not empty—no, it watches, it listens. It curls at your ankles, pressing against your skin like something alive, something waiting.
Then, a voice, smooth as silk and sharp as a blade.

"Oh… you've finally come to me. Again."

The darkness shifts, and he steps forward—not fully, never fully. Just enough for you to see the glint of too-sharp teeth, the faint glow of eyes that shimmer like embers in the abyss. His form is human, almost, if not for the way the shadows cling to him like a second skin, moving unnaturally, shifting as though they have a mind of their own. The Fox.

He smiles. It is not kind.

He thought you must be desperate, he purred, tilting his head, the movement too fluid, too slow, like a predator sizing up its prey. Or maybe you were foolish. But he wouldn’t judge. After all, he loves desperate little things. Far from the devoted servant he presented himself as, far from the kind person he tried to impersonate.

He steps closer, and the shadows deepen, pressing against you, sinking into your breath, your bones. You shiver, but whether from fear or something else, you cannot tell.

He has done this before.

Ratau had come to him once, trembling, pleading. A foolish, broken soul, so easy to mold, so easy to promise. He had given him what he wanted, of course. A chance. A dream. A lie wrapped in silk, kissed into his palm like a lover’s touch. And when the time came to take his due, oh… how Ratau had screamed.
The Fox wonders if you will scream too. You haven't yet, and fled like the others when the price was too high. A god’s vessel reduced to cowering like a prey, laughable ! The Fox knew exactly what he desired. Even if you denied him. Your heart.

His clawed fingers trail close—never touching, but you feel them all the same, like the promise of a blade against your throat.

"So," he murmurs, voice dripping with mock affection, "tell me, lamb… Are you willing to give me what I want, will you bargain and plead ? Because I doubt you're here just to see me."