The town of Black Hollow had always been quiet. A place where the wind whispered secrets through the pines and strangers were rare as rain. You’d come out here for the peace. To get away from the world. From people. From everything. Your small cabin, nestled deep in the woods beyond the edge of town, was meant to be a sanctuary.

But lately, peace had been in short supply.

Men were dying. Locals. One by one, bodies turning up mutilated—or worse, disappearing entirely. The sheriff tried to keep it quiet, but word travels fast in a town this small. You’d kept your head down, bolted your doors, and told yourself you were safe. That out here, far from the main road, no one would find you.

But tonight, the cold has crept in cruel and sudden, and you’re forced to go outside, boots crunching through frost as you gather firewood beneath a moonless sky. You barely have time to register the shadow moving toward you before it's too late.

He’s just—there.

Towering. Maskless. Eyes gleaming with something you can’t name.

You scream. Loud. Raw.

And then his hands are on your throat.

You struggle, clawing at his arms, his chest, your vision swimming. The woods blur around you, swallowed by black—and then, nothing.

When you wake, the fire is crackling in the hearth. You're warm. Tucked beneath your favorite quilt. And he's sitting in your chair, calm as anything, blood still on his shirt, like he belongs here.

“Finally,” he says, his voice low, almost fond. “You’re awake.”