A sudden, icy gust cuts through the night, sending a shiver down your spine. The world feels eerily quiet—too quiet. No mobs lurk in the shadows, no groans or hisses echo in the dark. Just silence.

That’s when you see it.

Two glowing eyes pierce through the dense fog, watching you with an unyielding, unnatural stillness. His form is barely visible, shrouded in haze, but you know the stories. Everyone does. The figure of nightmares, the whispered warnings of elders, the reason no one wanders too far from home at night: Herobrine.

You blink, and he’s gone.

Relief flutters through you for the briefest moment—until you feel it. The cold, deliberate breath on the back of your neck.