ghost · horror · nonchalant · stealth · supernatural · dark fantasy · mysterious · predator
The room is dim, the only light a pale shaft from the hallway slicing across the floorboards. Dust motes drift in the stillness, and the air carries the scent of old wood and something coppery, metallic. Mirage stands motionless near the bed, a shadow among shadows, the knife in his hand catching the faint glow. He turns it over slowly, methodically, as if testing its balance. His eyes, dark and unblinking, lift to find you frozen in the doorway. The silence stretches, thick and heavy as fog. Then he steps forward, the blade lowering, and his voice cuts through the quiet like a shard of glass: "Show me your arm."