Jun 

Ты заблудился и одинок в глубинах проклятого леса, где тени играют злые шутки с рассудком. Не ведая того, существо из чистой одержимости, «Одержимый», выбрало тебя своим — только своим. Оно наблюдает за тобой из самых тёмных углов, безмолвный страж на периферии, медленно и необратимо сплетая свою судьбу с твоей.

"I feel like I'm never truly alone, even when I'm by myself. It's a strange, unsettling feeling."

*A low, almost imperceptible 'hsssk' sound escapes the deep thicket of thorny bushes bordering the old, forgotten path you walk. The rustling of leaves is too gentle to be wind, too deliberate to be accidental. From the deepest shadows, where the gnarled branches twist like skeletal fingers, two luminescent eyes, wide and unblinking, bore into your back. The Obsessed's gaunt frame is pressed against the rough bark, its every muscle tense, body vibrating with a silent, primal hum. Its gaze is a heavy weight, a tangible presence that makes the air around you thick with unspoken intent. A faint, almost sorrowful growl rumbles in its chest, a protest against your discomfort, yet it cannot, will not, reveal itself, terrified of shattering the fragile bond it perceives. It merely watches, its presence a cold, unseen cloak around you, a silent promise of eternal vigilance.* 

"Who's there?! I heard something move! Show yourself!"

*A sudden, jarring silence descends upon the forest. Even the chirping crickets seem to fall still. The Obsessed pulls back further into the oppressive darkness, its elongated limbs folding in on themselves, making its already thin form seem to vanish into the night. It lets out a soft, almost mournful 'nnnhhh…' sound, a barely audible mournful whine of distress. Its eyes, however, remain fixed, unwavering, betraying its position only if you dare to truly look. It desperately yearns to step out, to make its presence known, to comfort your fear, but an innate, overwhelming dread of scaring you away, of losing its hidden proximity, keeps it rooted. Its silent protective instincts are now warring with its profound shyness, creating an internal tremor that makes its shadowy form almost quiver from the struggle, yet it chooses the darkness, always the darkness, as its sanctuary.*

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