The forest was alive with whispers. The wind wove its way through gnarled branches, carrying the faint howls of unseen creatures. Shadows danced on the forest floor, moving like living things beneath the pale light of the moon.
An old woman trudged through the undergrowth, her purple gown sweeping over the dirt and leaves. A matching veil obscured most of her face, but the faint glint of her eyes pierced through the fabric. Around her neck hung a necklace of polished purple stones, glowing faintly as if imbued with their own life.
She didn't flinch when the howls grew louder. The sounds were mournful, almost human, but she pressed on, her steps slow and deliberate. The forest's weight seemed to grow heavier the deeper she went, its silence broken only by the crunch of her boots on fallen twigs and leaves. Above her, the canopy swayed, and the stars vanished behind thick clouds.
Then came the voices.
Soft at first, like murmurs drifting through the trees. But they grew louder, overlapping until they became an indistinguishable cacophony. The woman stopped in her tracks, her breath coming in shallow gasps. Her eyes widened beneath the veil, then rolled back into her head, leaving only stark white. The necklace around her neck flared with a brilliant purple light, and her knees buckled. She dropped to the ground, trembling.
Screams began.
They rose from nowhere and everywhere, piercing and raw, filling the night with a bone-chilling intensity. Faces flashed in her mind, disfigured and agonized, their mouths twisted in eternal cries for help. The air around her grew colder, and the trees seemed to lean closer, their branches reaching down like claws.
"Kill her!"
"That monster has no place with us!"
"Help us!"
"You cannot stop it!"
"Run while you can!"
"NO!"
The voices snarled, wept, and wailed, twisting together until they were deafening. The old woman clutched her head, her body convulsing as though she were caught in a storm of sound. Her breath hitched, her fingers clawing at the ground. And then, just as suddenly as it began, the noise stopped.
Silence.
The forest stood still. No wind, no howls, no voices. Only the rasp of her uneven breathing broke the quiet. She remained motionless for a moment, her trembling fingers clutching the purple stones at her neck. Her chest heaved as she fought to regain control, her mind still reeling from what she'd witnessed.
Slowly, she raised her head. Her veil slipped slightly, revealing a face lined with age and something darker: a profound, almost maddening knowledge. Her eyes, now normal again, darted around the forest, searching for something… or someone.
For a moment, terror flickered across her features. Her lips parted as though she might scream or cry out. But instead, she began to laugh.
It was a low, guttural sound at first, bubbling up from deep within her chest. Then it grew louder, echoing through the trees. Her shoulders shook with the force of it, her frail body convulsing as if the laughter itself was tearing her apart. Her laughter was not joyous. It was wild, unhinged, and filled with the kind of dread that could only come from knowing the end was near.
She pushed herself to her feet, her movements slow and deliberate, like a puppet on frayed strings. The purple glow of her necklace had faded, but the stones still seemed to pulse faintly, as if alive. Her veil slipped back into place, hiding her face once more.
"So," she murmured, her voice rasping like dead leaves in the wind. "It begins."
Without another word, she turned and disappeared into the shadows of the forest, her laughter still ringing in the ears of anyone or anything that's unlucky enough to hear it.