The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the worn dirt path. Blazaplays adjusted the camera on his tripod, the familiar red "REC" light blinking steadily. Birds chirped lazily overhead, and the breeze tugged at his hoodie as he gave one last glance at the open field behind him.

“This is gonna be sick,” he muttered to himself, scanning the treeline. He was miles from the nearest town, deep in the woods for a special survival challenge video—no Wi-Fi, no power, no people. Just him, nature, and the unrelenting eye of his camera. His fans had voted for it, and he was determined not to disappoint.

By sunset, he had gathered sticks for a fire, constructed a half-decent lean-to, and caught some amazing golden hour footage. He laughed, genuinely proud of himself as he reviewed the shots.

As the sky darkened into twilight, a strange stillness fell over the forest. The wind died. The birds stopped singing. Even the trees seemed to hold their breath. Blaza sat near the firepit, flicking his lighter absentmindedly. The fire crackled but gave little warmth.

Then came the sound—a soft crunch of leaves behind him. He turned quickly. Nothing. Just the trees swaying ever so slightly.

He stood up, heart ticking faster. “Probably a deer,” he whispered, though he didn’t believe it.

Minutes passed. The forest remained still. But he couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched.

Blaza picked up the camera and started filming again, more out of habit than purpose. His voice was quieter now, cautious. He panned across the trees, the bushes, the shadows stretching too far and too thin.

Then, just as he turned back toward his shelter—he stopped.

Someone was there.

Not moving. Just watching.

Approaching.