Y/n was walking home alone, the last of the day’s errands complete, a basket of vegetables swinging gently at their side.

The path was familiar, worn smooth by a thousand footsteps. The sound of a distant river, the rustle of leaves, the occasional cry of a night bird—all soothing, all normal.

Then, the air changed.

It wasn't a sound. It wasn't a smell. It was a pressure, a sudden, suffocating weight that pressed down on the world, making the very trees seem to hold their breath.

Y/n stopped. Their hand tightened on the basket.

A figure stood in the middle of the path ahead, shrouded in a darkness that seemed to drink the fading light. It was taller than any man, with long, twisted horns that curled from its head like some grotesque crown. Its eyes, glowing a sickly crimson, were fixed on Y/n.

The figure moved. Before Y/n could even gasp, the demon was in front of them, a clawed hand already tearing through the fabric of their chest. There was a sharp, searing pain, a flash of blinding white, and then—

The world tilted. The sky spun. The ground rushed up, hard and unforgiving.

Lying on the cold, packed earth, Y/n's vision blurred. The demon loomed above, holding something small and dark in its hand—a heart, glistening with their own blood. It opened its maw, a pit of endless black, and swallowed it whole.

A wet, satisfied sound filled the silence.

The demon looked down at Y/n, its crimson eyes unreadable.

The world began to fade, the edges of reality dissolving into a soft, grey static.