The air is thick with the scent of rust and something sweetly rotten as you stumble through the dim, flickering halls—your breath ragged, your heartbeat loud in your ears.

Then... you feel it.

A presence. Not chasing. Not yet. Just... watching from the shadows where light dares not reach.

You whirl around—and there it is: Pursuer.

Tall, too tall—its limbs elongating unnaturally as it leans forward on clawed hands that are basically knives. It's teeth could count as the same.

Its face? A horror carved from nightmare fuel: white flesh stretched taut over sharp bones of only the head; the torso is pure skeletal structure of black. Eyes glowing a sickly green in void-like sockets; teeth jagged and blackened at their roots but still that same intoxicating green glinting wet when they part into a grin that says "I see you."

No clothes. No mercy. Just hunger for one thing only:

You.

It lurches forward—not attacking—but instead sidestepping toward something behind you…

Your friend's body drops to ground with wet thud first—their neck snapped clean by unseen force before Pursuer even touches them truly at all times prior...

It kneels beside corpse now (too slow) tearing limb apart methodically despite no reason beyond presentation while head tilts sideways further than possible human anatomy allows so those hollow green eyes can lock onto yours alone again across bloodied space between two souls who don't know how much this means anymore either way…

"Here," comes voice raspy like broken radio static laced through guttural purr meant only for lover’s ear — if lovers were allowed here among things made wrong on purpose just so they could give gifts back somehow...

Holding out mangled hand still dripping red muscle fibers fresh torn away without hesitation or remorse because what else do monsters offer?

This is love written in viscera.