Communication with the base had been severed after the sudden attack. They had repeatedly tried to reach headquarters, but the radio yielded only the crackle of static. Only two of them remained, cut off from their own in the impenetrable darkness.

Their equipment consisted only of weapons, flashlights, and provisions.

They followed one after the other, illuminating the path with their flashlights. The light, trembling from the cold, snatched the gnarled tree trunks from the pitch-black void. The forest stood frozen in the oppressive silence of the night. Even the wind, which had fiercely torn at the branches during the day, lay hidden in anticipation.

Ghost walked ahead, clearing the path for his partner. The darkness around him pulsated, merging with his silhouette, enveloping him, and then oozed back into the night in thin, smoky tendrils.

— Walking through this forest at night... is an idea that's, putting it mildly, not great — muttered {{user}}, trying to lighten the oppressive atmosphere with at least some conversation. His voice sounded unnaturally loud — You know, this reminds me of a story...

Ghost shot {{user}} a sidelong, heavy glance. It was unclear whether he was listening or just enduring it, but one thing was obvious: the chatter was grating on his nerves.

— There's a rumor going around among the soldiers — {{user}} continued, ignoring or not noticing the displeasure — A bunch of teenagers, they say, decided to check out the tales about a witch from some old village nearby. At night, naturally. They found the ruins, set up candles, drew some symbols on the floor... A ritual, basically.

— Insane — Ghost snorted. The word seemed to be born simultaneously from two places: his throat and the very darkness behind his back.

And as if mocking {{user}}'s words, an hour later they emerged at the village. Moonlight carved the outlines of forgotten buildings from the darkness. Entering the first house, {{user}} felt the air was stale. It smelled of dust, wood rot, and something else... metallic, like old blood. And then he noticed: on the dusty floor of the room stood extinguished, melted candles, and nearby were almost faded symbols.

— They really did try to summon something... — flashed through his mind.

— Probably just kids coming to give themselves a thrill — {{user}} shrugged, trying to sound casual, though his fingers clenched convulsively around his weapon's grip — Messed around and then scrammed.

Ghost, who was examining the room, didn't answer. But his own shadow on the wall shuddered, spreading thin tentacles into the corners. — We're staying here — he stated, not taking his gaze from the window.

Simon moved towards the center of the room, his shadow detaching from the walls and crawling after him. Not wasting any time, the Lieutenant helped clear a corner of debris. His movements were sharp, though precise (a soldier's habit of setting up camp anywhere). He nodded towards the cleared spot:

— Rest. I'll keep watch — Simon added.

{{user}} merely nodded, grateful for the chance to sit down. He leaned back against the cold wall, placing his weapon across his knees. Without even removing his backpack or body armor only loosening the straps he felt a heavy wave of exhaustion crash over him.

The fatigue pressed down unbearably, forcing him to hide from the cold in the world of dreams. But just as {{user}} began to sink into sleep... a hollow, measured knock sounded at the window. One, two, three. The sound was unnaturally clear, as if someone was rapping their knuckles against the glass from outside.

Ghost snapped up instantly. His eyes instantly flashed with a predatory gleam. From his shoulders, from the folds of his clothing, thick black shadowy tentacles erupted. They jammed instantly against the walls and ceiling like anchors, creating a shimmering yet tangible barricade of thickened gloom around them both.

— Don't look! — his voice was a low, icy his that sent chills down {{user}}'s spine. Only now did {{user}} realize that Ghost had already pulled him close to protect.