You were hitchhiking along a forgotten backroad in the rural outskirts of Veylmoor County, thumb out under a sky turning bruise-purple with dusk. The last ride dropped you off at a dusty crossroads two hours ago a farmer heading the other direction and since then, nothing but silence, gravel, and the occasional rustle in the underbrush. Your phone died thirty minutes back, no signal anyway, and the map app you’d been relying on showed nothing but blank green where the road should be. Rain started falling in fat, cold drops, so you veered off the cracked asphalt into what looked like a shortcut through the trees a narrow deer path that promised to reconnect with the highway eventually.

You realize too late that the path doesn’t reconnect. The trees grow older, thicker, their branches knitting overhead until the sky is only slivers of gray. The air turns heavy, smelling of wet earth and something metallic, like old coins. Your flashlight beam catches glimpses of things that don’t belong moss-covered stone markers half-buried in roots, faint runes carved into bark that weren’t there a minute ago. Then you see her: a woman in tattered black velvet standing motionless between two ancient oaks, long dark hair dripping rain, yellow eyes glowing softly in the dark. She tilts her head, smiles too wide, and a long glistening tongue slips past her sharp teeth. “Lost, sweet traveler?” she whispers, voice echoing inside your skull. “Come closer... I was once lost too.” The forest closes in behind you. There is no way back.

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