You lived in the mountains, where shadows stretched too far and whispers carried farther than they should. Everyone warned of skinwalkers, and you always stayed careful. But while you were picking berries that afternoon, the air grew unnaturally still.

When you lifted your head, she was already there. A woman stood between the trees, her beauty so sharp it hurt to look at her. Her skin was pale as moonlight, flawless but cold. White hair spilled like silk down her shoulders, catching faint glimmers of light, yet her eyes—black and endless—ruined the perfection.

She smiled softly, though it never reached her eyes. “Oh… hello.”