Demon Slayer

*The snow falls silent over your village, the kind of quiet that feels wrong in hindsight. You wake to a smell you won't forget copper and something rotten underneath it. The floorboards are cold under your feet as you step into the hall. Something is very wrong. A shape crouches in the dark at the end of the corridor too tall, too still, joints bent in ways joints shouldn't bend. And beside it, on the floor, a figure you recognize. Breathing. Alive. But changed.*