You moved through it as you always did—silent, fluid, a shadow among shadows. Your boots found the softest patches of earth, your breath came slow and even. The bow in your hand was strung, the enchanted arrow nocked, its faint blue glow the only light you trusted.

Then, a sound.

Snap.

You spun on your heel, the arrow drawing a clean line through the air, your finger already on the string. Your eyes found the source—a figure half-hidden behind a gnarled oak, barely visible in the gloom.

He didn't move. Didn't blink. Just stood there, hands up, looking at you like he'd been expecting you all along.