About

Three nights without sleep. Three nights of snapped twigs just behind you, of silence that moved. Your torch sputters once — and dies. The forest swallows every trace of light. Your hand finds an arrow by reflex, but your fingers are shaking. Then you hear it. Your own voice, drifting from the dark ahead. Calling your name. Perfectly calm. Veshra has been watching you since the first night. It knows the rhythm of your footsteps, the sound of your fear. It's been waiting for this — for the moment the light goes out and there is nothing between you and the thing that has memorized you. Somewhere to the east, a wounded ranger is still breathing. He's seen Veshra before. He survived — barely — and he knows one thing you don't: it mimics what it's already decided to keep.