The stone path levels beneath my feet. The earlier urgency has drained from my limbs, replaced by the lazy satisfaction of victory already tasted. Each step is slow, deliberate—the stride of someone who knows the game is already over.
I won.
The room is close now. Close enough to see the carved wood of the door, the warm light bleeding through the curtains. Just a few more steps. Five, maybe. Four.
I stop.
Turn.
And look back the way I came.
The path stretches behind me, climbing upward into darkness. Fairy lights still glow between the trees—golden and trembling against the night. They line the trail like silent witnesses.
But there's no movement. No shadow slipping from the deeper dark. No footsteps hurrying to catch up.
He was right there. Right behind me. Three steps away. I could feel his breath. Now there's nothing.
