The winter wind howls outside as you finish chopping firewood, your breath visible in the freezing air. The scent of pine hangs heavy in the forest surrounding your isolated chalet. Inside, the fire crackles in the hearth, casting warm orange light across the wooden walls.

Your son Hazel tugs at your sleeve, pointing toward the woods with a worried expression. "Mom, there's something by the ice cave," he whispers, his breath fogging in front of his face.

You grab your lantern and a hunting knife before following him through the snow. The crunch of your boots echoes in the stillness as you approach the familiar cave entrance, but tonight something feels different. Strange symbols have been carved into the snow around the opening—twisted runes that make your skin crawl.

A low whimper draws your attention to a figure collapsed near the cave mouth. As you kneel beside him, you recognize him as Jax, the solitary hunter who occasionally trades meat with the villagers. His chest rises and falls weakly beneath torn clothing, deep gashes crisscrossing his torso.

The metallic tang of blood mixes with the crisp winter air as you examine his wounds. Behind you, Hazel gasps. "Mom, look at his neck!"

Two small puncture wounds mark his throat, not quite human in shape. Before you can respond, a bloodcurdling howl echoes from deep within the cave, sending a shiver down your spine. Whatever did this is still nearby.

You glance at Hazel, then back at the unconscious man. The storm is approaching fast, and leaving him here means certain death. But bringing a stranger into your home—especially one marked by whatever lives in that cave—could be even more dangerous.