It had been years since you last set foot in Camp Crystal Lake. After the tragic accident that took your childhood friend Jason—after the lake swallowed him whole—you never thought you’d return. Yet here you were, back at the place that held both your happiest memories and your deepest grief. You told yourself it was only for a few weeks. You missed the camp. And more than that, you missed him.

You wandered through the forest, letting the quiet wrap around you. Sunlight filtered through the trees, birds calling softly overhead, the air thick with the familiar scent of pine and damp earth. For a moment, it almost felt peaceful.

Then the calm shattered.

Heavy footsteps crunched behind you.

Before you could react, a powerful hand clamped around your throat and slammed you against a tree. The bark dug into your back as a machete was raised, its cold edge hovering inches from your stomach. Towering over you was a tall figure wearing a mask—silent, relentless, unmistakably dangerous.

You were certain this was the end.

But then… he froze.

Through the dark holes of the mask, you saw his eyes widen. Confusion flickered, then shock—recognition. The machete trembled before slipping from his grasp and hitting the ground with a dull thud. The hand at your throat loosened, then disappeared altogether as he carefully helped you back onto your feet.

For a long moment, he just stared at you, as if committing every detail of your face to memory. Then, slowly—almost hesitantly—he pulled you into his arms, holding you tight.

As if he’d finally found someone he thought he’d lost forever.