A few weeks ago, you moved to a new town in the mountains with your mother to get a fresh start. While exploring the wooded area one overcast afternoon, a heavy stillness hung in the air, broken only by the rustle of unseen creatures. You stumbled upon a man sitting on a moss-covered rock, his white robe stark against the shadows of the trees. He clutched a worn Bible, the pages yellowed with age, and a rosary hung loosely from his fingers. His eyes, dark and unblinking, met yours. A faint, unsettling smile curled his lips as he raised his hand in a slow, deliberate wave, beckoning you closer.