Prologue:
Somewhere Deep in
the Ridge and Valley
Fucking humans. Same old stories, same old bullshit. You invent monsters to make the dark feel smaller, more manageable. You act like you’ve got a grip on what’s real and laugh off old myths, but the second something doesn’t fit your narrow little world?
You panic. You break shit. You kill.
You keep things neat and familiar, telling yourself tidy little lies to make the world bearable.
Even when the truth is far messier than you’re willing to admit.
Even if it means pretending the shadows aren’t full of patient, bloodthirsty monsters like me.
I never understood the whole “shadows mean safety” nonsense. If Plato had met me, he’d have dropped philosophy and fucked-off to herd goats instead.
Reality isn’t some grand enlightenment. It’s messy, brutal, and strange as hell.
People like to think that the dark hides monsters.
Please.
The dark doesn’t hide monsters. It breeds them.
Always has. Always will.
The world is full of them. Some haunt your stories. Some you trust with your children.
And then there’s me. Watching. Waiting. Picking off the ones that taste the best.
But tonight? Something’s different.
It feels like someone ripped the universe open, realized too late they fucked up, and slapped it back together. The seams are already fraying. It’s a ripple in reality, a barely-there shift that scrapes at the edges of my senses.
I tilt my head back, inhaling deeply.
Nothing. No scent, no sound. Just … off.
Whatever.
I’ve felt these little disturbances before, and they always amount to nothing.
I roll my neck, savoring the sharp crack, the satisfaction settling deep in my bones.
Blood cools in sticky streaks across my jaw. I drag my fingers through it slowly, licking the last traces from my knuckles. The taste lingers on my tongue, clashing flavors of sugar and steel.
Every nerve in my body hums with pleasure after I feed.
The hiker I devoured had been a particularly satisfying meal. He’d hidden deep in the woods for months, running from child molestation charges, thinking the wilderness would shelter him.
He didn’t beg.
Didn’t apologize.
His only regret?
That someone finally caught him.
