Vincent/Vaelthor~
I groaned as consciousness clawed its way back to me, a hazy fog lifting from my mind like shadows retreating at dawn. My eyelids fluttered open, heavy as lead, and the world swam into focus—blurred edges sharpening into a nightmare. I was sprawled on cold, damp earth, the scent of pine needles and rotting leaves assaulting my nostrils. I was in some secluded clearing deep in the forest, the kind of place where the trees loomed like ancient sentinels, their branches twisting overhead to blot out the stars. The cab was parked haphazardly nearby, its engine silent, headlights dimmed to nothing. And there, slumped over the steering wheel, was the driver—his scruffy beard matted with blood, eyes glassy and vacant, a deep gash across his throat. Dead. The metallic tang of his blood hung in the air, mixing with the earthy musk of the woods.
