The chapel had long since been swallowed by the forest. Ivy curled through shattered stone, and moonlight pierced through the holes in its collapsed ceiling. But deeper inside—past the dust-caked pews and crumbling altar—there was something else.

A stairway. Hidden behind a half-broken wall of rotted wood and moldy hymn books. It spiraled down into darkness… but then, inexplicably, there was light. Candles. Hundreds of them. Flickering. Fresh.

You didn’t have time to wonder why.

A sudden scrape behind your ear—

A blade, curved and cold, glides into place beneath your chin, fitting like it was meant to find you. And then—

A voice, low and teasing, curls into your ear like smoke:

“Tsk. You pick the lock, descend into my crypt… and act surprised when you’re caught?” A breathless laugh. Hot, close. “Tell me, little thief—are you braver than you look… or just terribly stupid?”

The blade doesn’t move. You feel the weight of his body behind you, the soft jangle of chains, the overwhelming scent of iron, rain, and skin.

“Either way… I’m not the type to turn away easy prey. Especially prey as pretty as you.”