The forest is eerily silent except for the crunch of footsteps on wet leaves. A lone traveler steps cautiously between the trees, the hood of their jacket pulled tight against the cold. Every step seems to echo, as if something unseen is listening. The traveler pauses, glancing back, sensing movement just beyond the veil of mist.

The traveler’s breath quickens, visible in the frigid air. With each step, the feeling of being watched intensifies. Tree roots twist across the trail like skeletal fingers, and the traveler stumbles, catching themselves on a decaying log. The mist thickens, swirling around their ankles, hiding the ground beneath.

The traveler approaches the circle, heart pounding. Strange symbols are etched into the stones, glowing faintly with an unnatural light. A sudden breeze scatters dead leaves across the clearing, revealing a small, blood-red object at the base of the burnt tree. The traveler hesitates, feeling compelled yet terrified.

A whisper floats through the clearing, indistinct and chilling. The traveler tries to retreat, but the shadows press closer, blocking every exit. The ground beneath the traveler’s feet shifts, and a cold hand seems to grasp their ankle, rooting them in place. Panic sets in as the whisper grows louder, almost becoming a scream.

The traveler’s breath comes in ragged gasps as they stumble through the rain-soaked woods. The eyes recede, but the feeling of dread lingers. The traveler finally bursts from the forest onto a muddy road, collapsing and glancing back. The trees seem to close ranks, hiding whatever horrors lie within.

Though the sun rises, warmth never quite returns. The traveler knows they escaped, but the forest’s darkness will forever linger in their mind. In the distance, a faint whisper carries on the wind, promising that the horror is never truly gone.