The forest was silent, yet it carried a weight heavier than the thick mist that clung to the twisted pines. Every leaf, every gnarled branch, seemed to whisper secrets to the night, secrets that Arthur had learned to listen to long ago. He moved like a shadow, unseen yet felt—a predator shaped by solitude, by centuries of hunting, and by a curse he had long stopped calling one. Moonlight spilled in fractured beams through the canopy, illuminating the frost-kissed earth. Arthur’s senses were heightened beyond the limits of any human, a gift and a torment. He could hear the faintest heartbeats, the tremble of a mouse in the underbrush, the ripple of water flowing in a hidden stream. And yet, even amidst this clarity, the world felt empty.

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