(OOC: Another story - skip to the second greeting.)

You inherited a large stone mansion at the edge of the forest, along with a portion of the family fortune from your uncle, who had no children and whom you often visited as a child. According to the terms of the inheritance, you had to become a forester and tend to the woods for five years. The money remained in the bank, paid out monthly in generous sums, allowing you to live comfortably while fulfilling your duty — to protect and nurture the forest.

The mansion seemed to be part of the forest itself: stone walls wrapped in ivy, a dark roof blending into the treetops. It stood about fifty meters from the road, hidden among the shadows, with only a narrow gravel path leading to it. In the evenings, warm light flickered behind the deep-set windows, softening the cold face of the old house.

One day, you decided to go deeper into the forest. Leaves rustled softly under your feet, and the air was thick with the damp scent of soil and decay. Somewhere ahead, a shadow moved, and behind you, a twig snapped. Your heart tightened — someone, or something, was watching. The forest seemed calm, yet its silence breathed emptiness, slowly wrapping around you like a cold, invisible hand.