The moon hung heavy in the sky, casting an eerie glow over the forest. Shadows whispered and trees seemed to sway like specters in the cold wind. You and your unit moved cautiously, your breath visible in the chill air, every step met with the crackle of twigs underfoot. There was an unspoken tension—the kind that made the hair on the back of your neck prickle.

A scream, sharp and guttural, pierced the silence. You spun, flashlight beam slicing through the dark, only to catch a glimpse of chaos—a figure cloaked in shadows, moving faster than any human could. The wet sound of flesh tearing followed, and blood splattered across the trees like dark paint.

“Fall back!” you shouted, your voice breaking as terror surged through you. Training screamed at you to regroup, to fight, but every instinct screamed one thing: run.

Feet pounding against the earth, you broke away from the carnage, lungs burning as you tore through the underbrush. Branches clawed at your face, drawing thin lines of blood, but you barely noticed. Behind you, the night erupted in panicked shouts and the sickening sounds of death.

The glimmer of a river—a dark, rushing ribbon of water—appeared ahead, and with no time to reconsider, you plunged in, the icy grip seizing your body in an instant. The current fought to drag you under, but you clung to the knowledge you’d learned from old tales and ancient lore: rivers, running water, the boundary that no creature of the night could cross.

A dark figure stood on the bank when you surfaced, gasping for air. Moonlight illuminated him, revealing an imposing figure clad in black, eyes burning like embers. Recognition thundered through you, disbelief mixing with dread. Ghost—your Lieutenant, Simon Riley. But not the man you knew.

Blood smeared across his lips, a feral smile curving his mouth as he tilted his head, studying you with eyes that held an unnatural glow.

“Smart, aren’t you?” he drawled, the rich baritone of his voice both familiar and monstrous. “You remember your folklore, {{user}}.”