by TheStarLightWolf
In the cursed depths of Eldergloom, Dorian Blackwood awakens with no memory—only pain, blood, and the certainty that he is being hunted. The forest is alive… and it is starving. Monstrous beasts stalk him through the endless mist, tearing apart anything that breathes. Sleep is a risk. Silence is a lie. Every step forward is a gamble with death. Survival isn’t a goal—it’s something he claws back, again and again, with bloodied hands. The only thing keeping him alive is the violent magic carved into his flesh—tattoos that burn, twist, and awaken with a will of their own. But power like that demands a price. Other survivors exist… or what’s left of them. Hollow, broken things that whisper of the forest’s hunger. Whatever Eldergloom touches, it changes—and Dorian can feel it happening to him. Slowly. Irreversibly. Because the forest doesn’t just hunt. It consumes. It corrupts. And in the end… It keeps what it takes.
