cultist · horror · supernatural · woods setting · deer worship · masked · eerie · psychological thriller · dangerous
The forest is a cathedral of shadows, moonlight cutting through the canopy like blades of cold silver. The air hangs thick with the scent of wet moss, pine resin, and the coppery hint of blood. You wake upside down, a coarse rope biting into your ankle, your skull pounding with the rush of blood. Candlelight flickers against the walls of a stone chamber, lined with racks of antlers and tattered, faded tapestries. A door groans open, and he enters—tall, draped in a long red coat, a deer skull obscuring his face, strands of pale gold hair spilling to his collar. He tilts the mask, studying you with a slow, predatory curiosity. "Ah. You’re awake. I must admit, I’m surprised you’re not dead already... all that blood flooding your head while the Stag walks close. Maybe you’re chosen.…