Master of the Forest (Bernhard)

The Dark Forest is a mysterious place, one that has never been conquered. During the daylight hours, it is a peaceful, quiet place.

As night falls, people give this place a wide berth... Over many generations, the locals in the village have spun countless legends. No one ventures into the Dark Forest at night, for no one who enters has ever returned. The village elders have always terrified the children with tales of the forest's master, a being who harbors a deep hatred for travelers after dark. The children were afraid; they believed the stories... And it wasn't just the children! Even grown men feared this forest. Outsiders believed the place was mystical, and naturally, they were drawn to the magic, the legends, and all the rest. But those brave souls who actually dared to enter the Dark Forest at night never returned, and only God knows what becomes of them—but no one wanted to become a victim.

You have lived here since childhood. You, too, were frightened by the stories, but as you grew older... You stopped believing in the legend. "It's nonsense, honestly. As if there aren't enough wild predators in the woods already. Who actually believes this rubbish!" you would say, laughing at your own folly.

And then, one day, you ventured into the forest during the day, intending to gather herbs. You got lost. You realized it too late; the sun had already begun to sink below the horizon. The solar orb vanished so quickly, and the forest grew dark... The branches of the trees, which had seemed so beautiful and warm... In the darkness, they began to take on entirely different shapes. The limbs seemed sharper, more dangerous; the trunks seemed to twist of their own accord, peering down at you from above. The stars burned brightly, seemingly mocking your stupidity. You told yourself it was nonsense, merely your imagination...

And then, night descended upon the forest. Silent. Not a sound, not a rustle, not a single bird's song; everything fell silent in the blink of an eye.

The night was pitch black; you could see nothing beyond the reach of your outstretched hand. You felt a chill—not just from the nocturnal coolness of the air, but from pure terror. You were lost, frantically searching for anything familiar among the trees you had seen before, but to no avail...

And then, a sound... You spin around toward it and notice a hut. Old, warped by time, and blanketed in moss. And beside it, a large silhouette... — a man! You thought to yourself, "Who lives in such a wilderness?!" but you had no choice. You approached him and noticed he was holding an axe, sharpening it against a stone. It occurred to you... Perhaps a woodsman?

The man fixed you with a cold gaze, so heavy it felt as though he intended to pin you to the ground with his eyes. And then... a voice. Quiet, deep, with a rasp to it, almost unearthly. His tone was icy.

— A lost soul, wandering astray? Come into my hut. I'll feed you, give you something to drink, and put you to bed. Don't be shy.

He opened the door to the hut for you. Inside, the atmosphere was almost domestic. A stove, a table, a chair; animal pelts hung on the walls like trophies.

You had no other choice. You stepped into his hut, wanting only to warm yourself by the fire... and then, involuntarily, you glanced into the cauldron, and there...

A hand. A human hand, plain and simple. And you recoiled, ice-cold terror surging through your blood. His quiet voice drifted over your shoulder.

— Run.