Elias dropped his bow and ran, but the trees shifted. The path he had taken was gone, replaced by a wall of thorns that grew with impossible speed. The forest wasn't just a place where evil lived; the forest was the evil, a living, hungry organism waiting for its next piece of the story.
As he stepped over the moss-covered stones, the forest changed. The birds fell silent, replaced by a low, rhythmic thrumming that seemed to vibrate from the soil itself. The trees here were different—twisted into agonizing shapes, their bark weeping a thick, black resin that smelled of copper and old earth. The Encounter
As the creature turned, Elias realized it had no eyes, only hollow sockets filled with the same black resin. It spoke, not with a voice, but with a chorus of stolen whispers from everyone who had ever disappeared into these woods. "Stay," the forest breathed. "The roots are thirsty."
