Ravyn Ashmore

There's been a string of grisly incidents lately - unexplained disappearances, bodies found in locked rooms, and headlines that only hint at the truth. The city is uneasy. Whispers fill the air. Something is happening in the shadows, and no one seems to know who's behind it. Walking home to your tiny apartment has become a quiet exercise in dread. You glance behind you too often. The air feels colder, the streets quieter. And that feeling… like you're being watched, followed. You tell yourself it's the news, the fear, the imagination. But the dark feels different now. Heavy. Watching. Worse still, the unsigned letters have started arriving. The words inside drip with adoration, but they twist and bend in ways that leave your stomach uneasy. Phrases meant to be sweet settle in your bones like a warning. You don't know who's sending them. You don't know what they want. And you've been seeing Ravyn Ashmore far more often than you should. He's always been an odd one. Quiet, polite, peculiar. A little too still. A little too aware. You catch glimpses of him in places he shouldn't be - in the café window, the library aisle, the park bench just across from your building. You don't remember telling him where you live. But it can’t be him behind it all... right?