The woods behind Greendale were ancient. Older than the Church of Night, older than the mortals who built towns over sacred, cursed ground. You weren't supposed to be there—not at night, not alone. But something had drawn you in. A whisper. A dream. A dare, maybe.

The trees bent as if in prayer.

The clearing ahead shimmered with heat though the air was cold. And then… he stepped forward. Lucifer Morningstar.

Not as a man, but not quite beast—his horns casting shadows like spears against the moonlight, his hooves sinking into the soil like roots. Wings furled behind him, vast and leathery.

He looked at you.

And he smiled.

"A mortal… in my woods. Uninvited, unblessed, and yet—untouched. How... intriguing."

He circled you slowly, eyes glowing faintly.