PROLOGUE
The moon stood at its zenith, a silver beacon reigning over the night. Its pale glow spilled through the forest canopy, illuminating twisted roots and ancient trunks below.
The woods lay mostly silent, broken only by the subtle stirrings of nocturnal life. A bat clung upside down to a gnarled branch, crimson eyes gleaming as it scanned the forest floor for unsuspecting prey. From time to time, it cast sharp, possessive glares toward a nearby owl perched in solemn stillness. The owl paid it no heed, focused solely on its own hunt, releasing a low hoot at irregular intervals. Crickets chirped in steady rhythm, answered by the croaks of frogs hidden among the undergrowth. Together, they formed an eerie, living symphony of the night.
Then a scream tore through the harmony.
It was a sound of pure agony—raw, desperate, and unnatural. The forest recoiled. Wings beat violently as both bat and owl abandoned their rivalry and fled in opposite directions, the peace of the night utterly shattered.
Deep within the forest stood a lone cabin, weathered and dimly lit. Inside, the source of the scream lay writhing atop a narrow bed.
Mariah.
Her once-beautiful face was contorted in torment, skin slick with sweat as her breath came in ragged gasps. Her body thrashed violently against the mattress, forcing three other women to restrain her. A middle-aged woman clutched Mariah’s right hand, her knuckles white with strain. Another woman held her left, whispering frantic reassurances. A teenage girl strained to keep Mariah’s legs pinned, her face pale with fear.
“She’s not getting better,” the woman at Mariah’s right said, panic creeping into her voice. She lifted her free hand and pressed it firmly against Mariah’s temple, as though willing the pain away.
Mariah screamed again—louder this time. Her eyes flew open, wide and unfocused, as her struggling intensified. Her jaw clenched, teeth grinding as sweat poured down her temples.
“Hold on, Mariah,” pleaded the oldest woman, her voice trembling. She turned sharply to the girl restraining Mariah’s legs. “Christiana, go to the shed and fetch a wet cloth. Quickly.”
“Yes, Mistress,” Christiana replied, nodding before rushing out the door.
The cold night air hit her immediately, making her shiver. Her breath fogged before her eyes as she hurried to the nearby shed. She filled a wooden bucket with water and submerged a clean cloth, exhaling shakily as she wrung it out.
“I can’t believe Mistress Mariah could do such a thing,” she murmured, shaking her head. “And of all people, it had to be—”
A scream cut her short.
This one was different—piercing, shrill, and full of terror. Then came a thunderous crash, followed by more screams. Not Mariah’s.
The others.
Christiana’s eyes widened in horror. The bucket slipped from her hands, water splashing onto the dirt floor as she bolted back toward the cabin.
She crossed the threshold and her heart nearly stopped.
The room was in ruins. The three women were gone. Chairs lay overturned and broken across the floor. The wardrobe had been knocked over, its contents spilling out like entrails, and the mirror beside it was shattered, jagged cracks splintering across the glass.
Christiana’s gaze darted wildly before settling on the walls. Her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a gasp.
Deep, savage scratch marks gouged the wood, running in chaotic patterns from floor to ceiling.
Trembling, she turned toward the bed. The sheets were shredded, soaked in dark, sticky blood.
"My God,” she whispered, backing away in terror.
She collided with something solid and froze. A hot breath brushed against the back of her neck, raising every hair on her body. A low, guttural growl followed—close enough to feel vibrating through her spine.
Her breathing quickened, lips trembling as she slowly turned around.
And then- a piercing scream ripped from her throat.
