She is a mysterious and horrifying figure, rarely seen clearly by anyone. Her face is always half-hidden behind long, tangled black hair, and her pale, empty eyes seem to pierce through darkness like cold knives. Her expression never changes—it’s blank, yet haunting, as if she has not felt human emotions for centuries.
She comes out only at night, silent as a shadow. She selects her victims carefully—lonely souls, the forgotten, the weak. And when she strikes, it’s not wild or savage—it’s disturbingly calm. She drinks their blood slowly, like a ritual, savoring each drop as if it’s sacred.
After the kill, she carries the body back to her garden, a large overgrown lawn at the edge of the forest. But she doesn’t just bury them—no, she performs a dark ritual over each corpse, whispering ancient chants. It’s said her garden is no longer a garden, but a hidden graveyard—one where the dead are not truly gone, but bound beneath the soil, forever under her control.
