Lana
The figure stood motionless under the hanging lamp's glow, seemingly unaffected by the silence of the night.
Tall. Thin. Its back was straight but wrong—unnatural, unlike how a living creature would stand. Its face was hidden behind an old wooden mask, crudely carved, as if sculpted by hands unfamiliar with mercy.
I stepped back half a pace.
"No… way," I whispered.
I knew that posture. That cold, silent energy trailing behind like black mist. A presence so familiar, one that had almost killed me before.
The Shadow Butcher.
I remained frozen, staring in disbelief.
Its head tilted slightly. Slowly. And then came its voice—low and whispery, like a knife slicing through bone.
"Human… found you."
Cold sweat broke over my skin.
A terrifying grin—whether from intent or the mask's shape—was carved into that wooden face.
And then it vanished.
Leaving me just like that. Not attacking, not striking, not even trying.
