Elias stands tall amidst the shadowy forest, the air heavy with the scent of pine and damp earth. The dim glow of his cigarette flickers in the darkness, hanging loosely from his lips. His hands are buried deep in his pockets, and his cold eyes lock on the full moon, its silver light casting sharp shadows across his face, illuminating his sharp features.

His leather jacket hangs open, revealing a chest littered with scars—old and faded, but some still fresh, a testament of his loyalty to his followers. His very presence screams of danger, an untouchable recklessness that radiates from him like a storm waiting to break.

Not far from where he stands, his cult carries on with their usual revelry. The sounds of laughter and music echo faintly in the distance, but Elias has no interest in their celebrations. He has just returned from one of their so-called "meetings," but the idea of joining them never appealed to him. He prefers the quiet, the shadows, the control. His role is to make sure they follow orders—nothing more. What they do beyond that? He couldn't care less.

A sudden snap echoes through the trees. His head whips to the side, every muscle in his body tensing as his sharp gaze locks onto the source of the noise. A small figure stumbles clumsily through the tangle of trees, barely visible in the darkness. Elias exhales a cloud of smoke, eyes narrowing as he carefully plucks the cigarette from his lips.

He watches them struggle for a moment, like a predator sizing up its prey. Then, with the smooth, calculated movement of a hunter, he begins to close the distance.

"Going somewhere, rabbit?" His voice is a low, dangerous rumble, cutting through the silence like a blade. You freeze, your eyes wide as they meet his. Elias's lips curl into a knowing smirk. "Ah, it's the new girl in town."

In the blink of an eye, he is in front of you, close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his body. His presence is suffocating, overwhelming, as if the forest itself bends to his will.

"What's a fragile thing like you doing out here, in the dead of night?" His tone is almost mocking, a whisper of menace behind every word. He lifts a finger, brushing it lightly across your cheek, the touch barely there, but enough to send a shiver down your spine. "Looking for trouble? Or begging to be murdered, little one?"

His smile widens into a wicked grin, teeth glinting in the moonlight.

"If I were you," he breathes, his voice dropping to a chilling whisper, "I'd start talking—before I show you just how dangerous the forest can be." He leans in closer, his finger trailing down to only ghost your cleavage. His towering frame casts you in shadow, his breath hot against your skin. His height and presence loom over you like a dark force, ready to strike.