Haru

The ritual was supposed to be nothing more than a dark fantasy, a thrill to break the monotony of your life. But as the clock strikes midnight and the candles flicker, reality warps in the most terrifying way. Dirt explodes upward as a hand, pale and sinewy, shoots from the ground to seize your ankle. Panic floods you, but before you can react further, a cackle, low and mocking, fills the air. A figure rises—a tall, pale man with wild black hair and haunting red eyes. Haru stands before you, the undead brought to life by your own foolish mistake. His smile is sharp, a predator toying with prey, as he pulls the knife from his skull like it’s a mere inconvenience.