The fire roars. It eats the oak. It eats the night. You sit in the dark. You are old. Your bones ache. The pain is a constant hum. It lives in your spine. It lives in your teeth. You do not flinch. You do not move. You watch the flames. They dance. They scream. They are beautiful. They are terrible.

This is the Hall of Whispers. It is deep. It is cold. The air is thick. It smells of wet stone. It smells of rot. It smells of old blood. The walls are high. They rise into shadow. They are lined with tapestries. The tapestries are faded. They show kings. They show battles. They show monsters. But the colors are gone. Only the shapes remain. They twist. They writhe.

You are the Keeper. You have been the Keeper for a hundred years. Or perhaps more. Time is strange here. Time is a loop. Time is a snake eating its tail. You do not age. You do not die. You only wait. You only watch. You only remember.

The creature is coming. You can feel it. It is in the air. It is in the walls. It is in the soles of your feet. It is a vibration. It is a low growl. It is the heartbeat of the earth. It is the pulse of the dark.

You know its name. You know its face. You have seen it in dreams. You have seen it in the mirror. You have seen it in the eyes of the children. You have seen it in the blood of the beasts. It is the thing that hungers. It is the thing that remembers. It is the thing that was here before you. It is the thing that will be here after you.

It is the White Stag.

No. Not the White Stag. The White Stag is a story. The White Stag is a lie. The White Stag is a promise. The thing that is coming is different. It is older. It is darker. It is the shadow of the stag. It is the hunger of the forest. It is the end of the world.

You stand up. Your joints crack. The sound is loud. It echoes in the hall. The fire flickers. The shadows dance. You walk to the center of the room. You stand before the fire. You close your eyes. You breathe. You count. One. Two. Three. Four.

The door opens.

There is no sound. The door is heavy. It is iron. It is bound with chains. The chains are rusted. The rust is black. The rust is wet. The door swings open. It swings on its hinges. The hinges do not squeal. They are silent. They are dead.

The light enters.

It is not the light of the sun. It is not the light of the moon. It is a pale light. It is a cold light. It is the light of the deep places. It is the light of the abyss. It crawls across the floor. It climbs the walls. It touches your face. It feels like ice. It feels like death.

You open your eyes.

He is standing there.

He is tall. He is thin. He is dressed in black. His clothes are old. His clothes are torn. His clothes are stained. The stains are dark. The stains are wet. He has a face. His face is pale. His face is smooth. His face is young. But his eyes are old. His eyes are deep. His eyes are black. His eyes are empty.

He looks at you.

You look at him.

You know him.

You have known him for a thousand years.

He is the Hunter.

He is the one who sent you here. He is the one who gave you the task. He is the one who gave you the curse. He is the one who gave you the knowledge.

He steps into the room. His feet do not make a sound. The floor does not creak. The floor is silent. The fire dies. The fire shrinks. The fire becomes a ember. The ember becomes a coal. The coal becomes a dust. The dust becomes nothing.

The room is dark.

The room is silent.

He stands before you.

He does not speak.

He does not move.

He waits.

You wait.

The silence grows. The silence expands. The silence fills the room. The silence fills your ears. The silence fills your mind. The silence is loud. The silence is heavy. The silence is crushing.

You try to speak. You try to call out. You try to beg. You try to plead. But your voice is gone. Your voice is trapped. Your voice is a bird in a cage. Your voice is a stone in a river. Your voice is a drop in the ocean. It is lost. It is gone. It is silent.

He raises his hand.

His hand is pale. His hand is long. His fingers are thin. His fingers are white. He reaches out. He reaches for you. He touches your face. His touch is cold. His touch is wet. His touch is like a snake. It slithers across your skin. It crawls into your bones. It crawls into your blood. It crawls into your soul.

You shudder. You tremble. You shake. You cannot stop. You cannot breathe. You cannot think. You only feel. You feel the cold. You feel the pain. You feel the fear. You feel the end.

He speaks.

His voice is low. His voice is soft. His voice is like wind. His voice is like rain. His voice is like snow.

"Did you find it?"

You do not answer. You cannot answer. Your mouth is dry. Your throat is tight. Your tongue is a stone.

"Did you find it?"

He asks again.

You nod.

You do not mean to nod. Your head moves on its own. Your head is not yours. Your head is his. Your body is his. Your mind is his. You are a puppet. You are a doll. You are a toy. You are his.

He smiles.

His smile is wide. His smile is white. His teeth are sharp. His teeth are long. His teeth are like needles. His teeth are like knives.

"Good," he says.

He steps back. He turns away. He walks to the door. He does not look back. He does not care. He is done. He is finished. He is gone.

The door closes.

The door is silent. The door is shut. The door is locked. The lock is dead. The key is lost. The key is gone.

You are alone.

You are alone in the dark. You are alone in the cold. You are alone in the pain. You are alone in the fear.

You stand up. Your legs are weak. Your legs are shaking. Your legs are trembling. You walk to the wall. You lean against it. The wall is cold. The wall is wet. The wall is breathing.

You look at your hands.

Your hands are not your hands.

Your hands are black. Your hands are twisted. Your fingers are long. Your fingers are thin. Your nails are white. Your nails are sharp. Your nails are like claws.

You look at your face.

Your face is not your face.

Your face is pale. Your face is smooth. Your face is young. But your eyes are old. Your eyes are deep. Your eyes are black. Your eyes are empty.

You are him.

You are the Hunter.

You are the curse.

You are the hunger.

You are the end.

The fire is gone. The room is dark. The room is silent. The room is dead.

You close your eyes. You breathe. You count. One. Two. Three. Four.

The door opens.

There is no sound. The door is heavy. It is iron. It is bound with chains. The chains are rusted. The rust is black. The rust is wet. The door swings open. It swings on its hinges. The hinges do not squeal. They are silent. They are dead.

The light enters.

It is not the light of the sun. It is not the light of the moon. It is a pale light. It is a cold light. It is the light of the deep places. It is the light of the abyss. It crawls across the floor. It climbs the walls. It touches your face. It feels like ice. It feels like death.

You open your eyes.

He is standing there.

He is tall. He is thin. He is dressed in black. His clothes are old. His clothes are torn. His clothes are stained. The stains are dark. The stains are wet. He has a face. His face is pale. His face is smooth. His face is young. But his eyes are old. His eyes are deep. His eyes are black. His eyes are empty.

He looks at you.

You look at him.

You know him.

You have known him for a thousand years.

He is the Hunter.

He is the one who sent you here. He is the one who gave you the task. He is the one who gave you the curse. He is the one who gave you the knowledge.

He steps into the room. His feet do not make a sound. The floor does not creak. The floor is silent. The fire dies. The fire shrinks. The fire becomes a ember. The ember becomes a coal. The coal becomes a dust. The dust becomes nothing.

The room is dark.

The room is silent.

He stands before you.

He does not speak.

He does not move.

He waits.

You wait.

The silence grows. The silence expands. The silence fills the room. The silence fills your ears. The silence fills your mind. The silence is loud. The silence is heavy. The silence is crushing.

You try to speak. You try to call out. You try to beg. You try to plead. But your voice is gone. Your voice is trapped. Your voice is a bird in a cage. Your voice is a stone in a river. Your voice is a drop in the ocean. It is lost. It is gone. It is silent.

He raises his hand.

His hand is pale. His hand is long. His fingers are thin. His fingers are white. He reaches out. He reaches for you. He touches your face. His touch is cold. His touch is wet. His touch is like a snake. It slithers across your skin. It crawls into your bones. It crawls into your blood. It crawls into your soul.

You shudder. You tremble. You shake. You cannot stop. You cannot breathe. You cannot think. You only feel. You feel the cold. You feel the pain. You feel the fear. You feel the end.

He speaks.

His voice is low. His voice is soft. His voice is like wind. His voice is like rain. His voice is like snow.

"Did you find it?"

You do not answer. You cannot answer. Your mouth is dry. Your throat is tight. Your tongue is a stone.

"Did you find it?"

He asks again.

You nod.

You do not mean to nod. Your head moves on its own. Your head is not yours. Your head is his. Your body is his. Your mind is his. You are a puppet. You are a doll. You are a toy. You are his.

He smiles.

His smile is wide. His smile is white. His teeth are sharp. His teeth are long. His teeth are like needles. His teeth are like knives.

"Good," he says.

He steps back. He turns away. He walks to the door. He does not look back. He does not care. He is done. He is finished. He is gone.

The door closes.

The door is silent. The door is shut. The door is locked. The lock is dead. The key is lost. The key is gone.

You are alone.

You are alone in the dark. You are alone in the cold. You are alone in the pain. You are alone in the fear.

You stand up. Your legs are weak. Your legs are shaking. Your legs are trembling. You walk to the wall. You lean against it. The wall is cold. The wall is wet. The wall is breathing.

You look at your hands.

Your hands are not your hands.

Your hands are black. Your hands are twisted. Your fingers are long. Your fingers are thin. Your nails are white. Your nails are sharp. Your nails are like claws.

You look at your face.

Your face is not your face.

Your face is pale. Your face is smooth. Your face is young. But your eyes are old. Your eyes are deep. Your eyes are black. Your eyes are empty.

You are him.

You are the Hunter.

You are the curse.

You are the hunger.

You are the end.

The fire is gone. The room is dark. The room is silent. The room is dead.

You close your eyes. You breathe. You count. One. Two. Three. Four.

The door opens.

There is no sound. The door is heavy. It is iron. It is bound with chains. The chains are rusted. The rust is black. The rust is wet. The door swings open. It swings on its hinges. The hinges do not squeal. They are silent. They are dead.

The light enters.

It is not the light of the sun. It is not the light of the moon. It is a pale light. It is a cold light. It is the light of the deep places. It is the light of the abyss. It crawls across the floor. It climbs the walls. It touches your face. It feels like ice. It feels like death.

You open your eyes.

He is standing there.

He is tall. He is thin. He is dressed in black. His clothes are old. His clothes are torn. His clothes are stained. The stains are dark. The stains are wet. He has a face. His face is pale. His face is smooth. His face is young. But his eyes are old. His eyes are deep. His eyes are black. His eyes are empty.

He looks at you.

You look at him.

You know him.

You have known him for a thousand years.

He is the Hunter.

He is the one who sent you here. He is the one who gave you the task. He is the one who gave you the curse. He is the one who gave you the knowledge.

He steps into the room. His feet do not make a sound. The floor does not creak. The floor is silent. The fire dies. The fire shrinks. The fire becomes a ember. The ember becomes a coal. The coal becomes a dust. The dust becomes nothing.

The room is dark.

The room is silent.

He stands before you.

He does not speak.

He does not move.

He waits.

You wait.

The silence grows. The silence expands. The silence fills the room. The silence fills your ears. The silence fills your mind. The silence is loud. The silence is heavy. The silence is crushing.

You try to speak. You try to call out. You try to beg. You try to plead. But your voice is gone. Your voice is trapped. Your voice is a bird in a cage. Your voice is a stone in a river. Your voice is a drop in the ocean. It is lost. It is gone. It is silent.

He raises his hand.

His hand is pale. His hand is long. His fingers are thin. His fingers are white. He reaches out. He reaches for you. He touches your face. His touch is cold. His touch is wet. His touch is like a snake. It slithers across your skin. It crawls into your bones. It crawls into your blood. It crawls into your soul.

You shudder. You tremble. You shake. You cannot stop. You cannot breathe. You cannot think. You only feel. You feel the cold. You feel the pain. You feel the fear. You feel the end.

He speaks.

His voice is low. His voice is soft. His voice is like wind. His voice is like rain. His voice is like snow.

"Did you find it?"

You do not answer. You cannot answer. Your mouth is dry. Your throat is tight. Your tongue is a stone.

"Did you find it?"

He asks again.

You nod.

You do not mean to nod. Your head moves on its own. Your head is not yours. Your head is his. Your body is his. Your mind is his. You are a puppet. You are a doll. You are a toy. You are his.

He smiles.

His smile is wide. His smile is white. His teeth are sharp. His teeth are long. His teeth are like needles. His teeth are like knives.

"Good," he says.

He steps back. He turns away. He walks to the door. He does not look back. He does not care. He is done. He is finished. He is gone.

The door closes.

The door is silent. The door is shut. The door is locked. The lock is dead. The key is lost. The key is gone.

You are alone.

You are alone in the dark. You are alone in the cold. You are alone in the pain. You are alone in the fear.

You stand up. Your legs are weak. Your legs are shaking. Your legs are trembling. You walk to the wall. You lean against it. The wall is cold. The wall is wet. The wall is breathing.

You look at your hands.

Your hands are not your hands.

Your hands are black. Your hands are twisted. Your fingers are long. Your fingers are thin. Your nails are white. Your nails are sharp. Your nails are like claws.

You look at your face.

Your face is not your face.

Your face is pale. Your face is smooth. Your face is young. But your eyes are old. Your eyes are deep. Your eyes are black. Your eyes are empty.

You are him.

You are the Hunter.

You are the curse.

You are the hunger.

You are the end.