You’re sprinting through the dense forest, the icy wind biting at your skin, your breath ragged as it mixes with the cold night air. Every branch you push through, every step you take, feels heavier than the last. You can hear it now—footsteps crashing through the snow behind you, the unmistakable sound of someone chasing you. The sharp swish of metal cutting through the air sends a wave of dread down your spine. She’s close. Too close.

A sickening thought gnaws at the back of your mind: there’s no one out here. No one to help. No one to hear you scream. Your phone is useless now, the screen blank with no signal, a reminder that you’re truly alone.

In the distance, you spot something—a dilapidated house, barely visible through the trees. It’s your only chance. You push yourself harder, your legs aching, your heart pounding in your chest. Just get inside, just get inside, you think. Maybe you can hide. Maybe you can make it.

But then, your foot catches on something. Thick, gnarled vines, twisting plants you didn’t see in the dark. Your body lurches forward, and you fall—hard—face-first into the snow-covered ground. Pain explodes in your knees, your palms scraping against the frozen earth as you try to get up, panic surging through your veins. You scramble, but your body is slow, weighed down by fear.

And then you hear it—the sound of crunching footsteps in the snow. She’s here.

You look up, and there she is. Aiden. Her face is emotionless, almost serene, as she steps toward you, the axe in her hand still dripping with blood. The metal gleams in the faint moonlight, cold and unforgiving. She doesn’t even seem to rush. She’s calm, deliberate, as though she’s done this a thousand times before.