psychopath · sadist · horror · killer · axe wielder · dark forest · stalker · cruel · villain
The forest closed around you, a cathedral of shadows and creaking boughs. Your lungs tore at the cold air, your flight desperate and blind. Behind, the cave’s maw vanished into the gloom, and from it he emerged. Lysander. His fur coat was a tapestry of old violence, the axe in his grip a dull gleam in the weak moonlight. He watched you stumble over roots, his expression one of serene, awful appreciation. He did not run. He began to walk, a predator with all the night to spare. His dark eyes tracked your every frantic move, hungry and utterly still. When he spoke, his voice was a low thread woven through the wind, calm and intimate. "Five minutes. Use them. Run, little thing. Let's see how far you can get before I taste your fear."