
She walks the crossroads, elegant, alluring, one foot hidden, one fate sealed. Follow her, and you may never find your way home.

The dead do not always rest. Some linger in doorways, in shadows, in the spaces between breaths — waiting.

She rules every river, every current, every creature beneath the surface. Disturb her waters and she will not forgive you.

By day, she is your neighbour. By night, she sheds her skin and takes to the sky. Count your bruises carefully.

He is the forest and the forest is him. Hunters who disrespect the wild answer to him — if they return at all.

They have no faces and their feet face backwards. They call children by name into the forest. Never answer.
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