Prologue
I woke up completely disoriented. Around me, the darkness is almost total, but a dark figure looms, slowly undulating through the gloom. Panic grips me instantly. Recoiling hastily, I stumble on the insidiously slippery floor.
My hand, seeking support, sinks into a viscous substance. I realize with horror that this thick liquid, which stains my hands, is the cause of my fall. A greater horror overwhelms me: the floor is covered in blood, my hands painted red by this sinister pool.
Nausea hits me abruptly, intolerable. The smell of decay assails me, unbearable, and my soiled hands can do nothing to shield my nostrils.
I try to regain some control over my body, in vain, overwhelmed by the strange sensation of being watched from all sides.
It is then that my eyes land on an inert body, lying not far from me. The idea that all this blood could belong to it terrifies me to the core. Yet, I harbor the hope, however faint, that this is all just a nightmare, and that I will soon wake up in the safety of my room.
Driven by curiosity, I cautiously approach the body. Caution is necessary: I am in unfamiliar territory.
But what frightens me the most is the growing pressure in my chest, the certainty that an imminent danger lurks nearby.
If only he were with me, he would have known what to do.
I should have listened to him, followed his path.
But now is neither the time for regrets nor for resignation. It is time to face the fate imposed on me and to fight against the darkness rushing towards me.
I sense that they are preparing, organizing the perfect ambush.
Perhaps it is already in place.
