The cold breeze brushed against Eden's skin, sharp enough to sting, yet it did nothing to cool the sweat soaking through his white shirt. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one burning his lungs as his feet pounded relentlessly against the deserted road. The night stretched endlessly around him, eerily silent beneath the dim glow of scattered streetlights, swallowing everything beyond their reach.

Terror consumed him. His wide, frightened eyes darted over his shoulder, only to be greeted by an endless curtain of darkness. There was nothing there. No footsteps. No shadow. No one. Yet his legs refused to stop. They carried him forward as though his life depended on it, as though death itself was only a breath behind him, reaching out with invisible hands.