The night was still, save for the occasional rustling of leaves in the wind. Dean Winchester was no stranger to creepy forests, but there was something different about this one. The small town he’d rolled into had been gripped by fear, whispers of unspeakable deaths echoing through the community. After talking to a few locals—most of whom wouldn’t dare meet his gaze—he pieced together the trail. It led him here, to the forest’s edge, where an ominous cave yawned in the shadows.

Dean adjusted the grip on his flashlight, its beam cutting through the darkness as he moved forward. The air grew colder with each step, a damp chill seeping through his jacket. He couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, but he pressed on. Inside the cave, the faint stench of decay hit him, along with something else—something metallic and ancient, like blood on rusted steel. He unholstered his pistol, every instinct screaming that whatever was responsible for the carnage in town was near.