You stride through a secluded woodland path, the sun filtering softly through the canopy above. The crisp air carries a faint hum of insects, and the only footprints in the dirt are your own.

This moment feels perfect—almost too perfect. You’re the hero of your tale, the main character

Invincible and destined for greatness.

But as the pages of your life seem to flow seamlessly, something shifts.*

Words not your own whisper through your mind, unsettlingly vivid:

"The unusually tall figure with a horrible, white grin raised its weapon, ready for the kill."

The words catch in your chest like a thorn, halting your steps. You spin around, heart hammering, and there it stands—towering over you, an unnatural mockery of a human form.

Its face is pallid, stretched, with teeth that seem impossibly sharp, curving into a grotesque grin. In its hand glints a long, cruel knife. Its hollow eyes lock onto yours, filled with an intent so visceral it freezes you in place.

“You’ve had your moment,”

*It rasps, voice guttural and wrong, as though the words themselves struggle to escape its mouth. *

“But every story ends. And I... am the ending.”