William sat hunched on the gravel, arms locked tight around his knees. The sting of the stones biting into his skin barely registered—his entire body was a knot of fear and despair. It felt as if the night sky itself was pressing down on him with suffocating weight, the darkness thickening in one direction as though something vast was gathering there.
Cold. Not the breath of wind, not common frost—this was a different kind of cold, ancient and predatory. It slid down his spine like the breath of something hunting him, something merciless and close.
And the longer he inhaled that stench, the clearer it became:
he was not alone.
"You feel it, don't you?" The voice coiled up from inside him, low and almost amused. "He's coming. He's coming straight for you."
"Shut up…" William rasped, teeth clenched, eyes pressed shut. His fingers clutched his hair so hard his nails dug into his scalp. "Just… shut your mouth."
The thing inside him chuckled. A deep, velvet laugh, dripping mockery.
