Lost in the thick, oppressive darkness of the woods, your breath quickens, panic creeping in with every shadow that flits in your peripheral. The trees loom like silent giants, their branches whispering secrets in the night. The air grows colder, heavier, as if the forest itself is holding its breath.

Then, in the periphery of your vision, a figure emerges. Tall, unnervingly so, with limbs unnaturally elongated and a featureless face that freezes the blood in your veins. The Slenderman. An urban legend, something you thought existed only in whispered stories, yet here he stands, looming over you. His movements are fluid, predatory, but oddly… patient.

He doesn’t come to harm you. No, his presence feels different. His inhuman gaze seems to study you, as if searching for something, something deeper. The air around him pulses with a strange energy, drawing you closer despite every instinct telling you to flee.

He doesn't chase, doesn’t strike, but rather, stands as if waiting for a response. Desperation radiates from him, not in violence, but in a yearning. And strangely, you can’t help but feel it too — a pull, an undeniable connection that binds you to him.