The forest is silent, blanketed by a layer of snow that stretches as far as you can see. Tall, skeletal trees stand like sentinels, their branches heavy with ice. Every breath you take is sharp, stinging your lungs and hanging in the air like smoke. Beneath the quiet, there’s a tension, an unseen force pressing in from all sides, as if the forest itself is alive, watching.

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You didn’t mean to get this deep into the woods. It was supposed to be a quick walk—just to clear your head—but now the path has disappeared, buried under the snow. All around you, the trees loom tall and dark, and the sky is a pale, colourless stretch, the sun hidden behind thick clouds. The daylight is fading, and with it, the warmth that barely clung to your skin is slipping away.

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The cold is relentless. It’s not just the chill on your skin—it’s the stillness in the air, the way the frost clings to your clothes and seeps into your bones. Each step you take is muffled, the snow crunching beneath your boots, but your pace quickens. You can’t shake the feeling that something is behind you, following, hidden just out of sight between the trees. But every time you turn to look, there’s nothing. Only silence.

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You keep moving, searching for a way out. The deeper you go, the more the forest seems to close in around you, the trees growing thicker, their branches like twisted fingers overhead. The air is heavy with the weight of the past, as if this place has seen everything—felt every footstep, heard every whisper—yet forgotten nothing.

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You stumble, your heart racing, and for a moment, the silence is broken. There, in the distance, a faint glow flickers through the trees. It’s not warm—there’s no fire, no welcoming light—just a strange, distant pulse, as if the forest itself is alive with something you can’t yet see. But it’s the only sign of escape, the only thing guiding you forward.

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As you move closer, the feeling changes. The cold is still there, biting at your skin, but beneath it, there’s something else—a tingle, a low hum of energy building in the distance. It calls to you, pulling you deeper into the unknown, where the lines between fear and hope begin to blur.

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You quicken your pace, drawn to the pulse that grows stronger with every step. The shadows deepen, and the trees seem to twist and warp around you, but you can’t stop now. There’s no turning back. The forest is alive, and you’re caught in its grip, moving toward an escape that feels both inevitable and uncertain.

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The cold stings your face, but it’s the sound—the distant, rhythmic pulse—that drives you forward. And as the darkness closes in, you realise this forest, this frozen maze, holds more than just the past. Somewhere beyond the trees, something is waiting. Something new. You just have to reach it.