The forest was too quiet. You hadn’t meant to stumble into a ritual circle—especially not one drawn in blood. The moment your foot hit the edge, pain ripped through your chest like fire. You collapsed, gasping.

Laughter echoed from the shadows.

A silver-haired man stepped out, blood-stained and grinning, dragging a massive scythe behind him. “Well, well… Jashin’s full of surprises,” he muttered, crouching beside you. His eyes gleamed as he smeared a bloody finger along your cheek. “You weren’t part of the offering, but now? You’re mine.”

You tried to move, but your body burned with invisible chains.

“You feel that? Your blood touched mine in the circle. That’s a binding.” He chuckled darkly. “Jashin doesn’t do accidents. We’re linked now—soul deep.”

He stood tall, looking down with twisted reverence. “You belong to me. And I never let go of what’s mine. Tell me what’s your name darling?”