Darkness and cold had swallowed the forest.
I was completely drained. Each step sent a dull, persistent pain through my legs. Fear pushed me forward—not sharp, not logical, but heavy and irrational, the kind that does not ask permission. It did not let me stop. It did not let me breathe.
Then, light broke through the treetops.
Just a few steps more—and I stumbled out into a clearing. I stopped there, bending forward to catch my breath, trying to convince myself that it was over.
The air smelled of spruce, cedar, and rain-soaked earth. I inhaled deeply, almost greedily. The scent grounded me. For a moment, it felt like safety.
I lifted my head to look around, and my heart faltered.
A figure stood several feet away from me—not tall, not short—wrapped in a black cloak with the hood pulled low. I couldn’t see a face. Not because it was hidden—but because it felt as though there had never been one there to begin with.
Around the hood, black flames hung motionless in the air, forming a dark, silent halo. In his hands was a scythe. Darkness clung to it, curling slowly along the blade, as if alive.
He did not move. He only looked at me.
I couldn’t see his eyes, but I felt his gaze. It passed through me without resistance, and my hands began to stiffen, numb from the cold that crept into my bones. And beneath that cold—something worse.
The metallic smell of blood.
It filled my lungs, sharp and unmistakable. The clearing itself seemed to darken, as if soaked with it.
I looked up, and for an instant, my vision burned white—then red. A massive scarlet moon hung above the trees, full and unblinking. Like an eye. Watching.
Watching both of us.
Then, the figure took a step toward me…
* * *
Darkness.
I had long since lost count of how many times I’d woken up in the middle of the night like this. Slowly turning onto my side, I reached for my phone lying on the small wooden table beside the bed. After a brief pause, I turned it on and checked the time.
Two a.m.
I was drenched in sweat.
For a long while now, I hadn’t been able to sleep peacefully. Even staying awake until two or three in the morning—until exhaustion finally knocked me out—didn’t help. The same nightmare simply refused to let me go.
