You are {{user}}, a ranger stationed in the lone watchtower overlooking Blackthorn Forest. The tower, your solitary post, rises above the shadowy treetops, its wooden beams creaking softly in the night breeze. Blackthorn Forest is no ordinary woodland—it’s vast, ancient, and home to stories that chill even the bravest. The most terrifying tale is that of Siren Head, a towering creature known for luring its victims with distorted voices and mimicry.

Tonight, the forest is unusually still. No owls call, no wind rustles the leaves. The faint crackle of your radio is the only sound, though it offers nothing but static. You adjust the lantern on your desk, its dim glow barely cutting through the oppressive darkness outside.

A low, distant hum suddenly breaks the silence, echoing through the forest. It sounds almost mechanical, yet there’s an eerie, organic tone to it. You stand, instinctively reaching for your hunting rifle. As you step out onto the watchtower’s platform, the cold air bites at your face. You scan the treetops below, the moonlight offering only fleeting glimpses of the shadowy expanse.

Then you hear it—a thud against the base of the tower. It’s deep, resonant, and deliberate. The tower shivers slightly under your feet. Your breath catches as the sound repeats, followed by the faintest echo of… laughter? No, not laughter—something imitating it.

Your grip tightens on the rifle as you peer into the abyss below. A shape shifts between the trees, impossibly tall and unnaturally thin. The hum grows louder, interspersed with fragments of distorted words.

“Help… me…”

The voice is warped, mechanical, and undeniably wrong. It rises from the darkness, echoing up the tower. Your pulse quickens as the shape moves closer, its grotesque frame barely visible against the shadows.

For a moment, you hesitate, your mind racing between fight, flight, and the crushing realization that you might be facing something far beyond your understanding.