Elias tightened his grip on the hilt of his dagger, the weight of it grounding him against the fear coursing through his veins. He had never imagined he'd actually use it. It was supposed to be just a precaution, something to make him feel safe in a world that often felt too dangerous. But now, as he stood face-to-face with the undead soldier, all those layers of hesitation stripped away.
The skeletal figure loomed in front of him, its tattered fedora tilted at an unsettling angle. The staff in its bony hand gleamed with a blade that shimmered faintly under the pale moonlight. Its hollow eyes seemed to burn with something far deeper than malice—a recognition.
Elias felt it too, though he couldn't place it. The way the skeleton cocked its head, almost as if it were studying him, unsettled him to his core. He froze for a heartbeat as the feeling sank in. Did it know him? Did it see something in him that he didn't see in himself?
