The residents of Arcadia spoke of The Shepherd—a once-beloved preacher that had twisted into a malevolent specter. He lured residents to the woods using a siren’s song of salvation. Roland Gray, a weary monster hunter, arrived. He was here to confront the horror that now loomed.
Inside a dimly lit bar, the air was thick with dread. An old woman, her voice quivering, leaned closer to Roland. “He sings, you know. A melody so beautiful it draws you in, but it’s a trap. People vanish, lured by promises of salvation that turn to ash.”
Roland’s eyes narrow and he thumbs his holstered revolver. “Tell me everything.”
***
Later, as night enveloped the woods, Roland approached the abandoned church that The Shepherd was known to lure his victims to. The trees around the church loomed like dark sentinels, their twisted branches clawing at the sky. Then, he heard it—the soft, haunting voice, weaving through the air like a serpent. It wrapped around him, seductive and chilling.
“Fight it,” he growled to himself, but the song tugged at his mind, promising reprieve.
Out of the darkness, a figure emerged, draped in flowing black robes, its eyes glowed like coals in a dying fire: a grotesque mixture of charm and terror. “Roland Gray,” it purred, voice smooth and inviting. “Come, let me guide you to what you seek.”
“Not a chance,” he spat, raising his revolver, the protective runes gleaming in the dim light. “I’m here to end you.”
Before he could fire a shot, the figure wisped away back into the dilapidated church. From inside the church, dozens of candles lit at once and the church took on a haunting glow. The Shepherd’s voice slithered through the trees, beckoning them with false promises. “Roland,” it sang, seductive and malevolent. “I can bring you peace. I can bring you salvation.”
“Enough!” Roland shouted and charged into the church.
The Shepherd flowed between the pews, its voice burrowing ever deeper into Roland’s mind. Every time Roland had the shot, The Shepherd again maneuvered away and Roland could feel himself fading to blackness.
Utilizing his years of training, Roland steadied himself and blocked his mind, if only for a moment. He closed his eyes, letting his senses guide him as he raised his trusted weapon. With a surge of resolve, he squeezed the trigger. His aim was true, and the air crackled as the Shepherd howled. A tremendous burst of light filled the church as if hundreds of souls had been released in an instant. The Shepherd floated high above the pews screaming, the volume piercing Roland’s mind and buckling his knees. The Shepherd crumpled to the floor, his form dissolving into an inky darkness.
***
Back in the bar, a crowd gathered around Roland. The elderly woman sat next to him and gave him a whiskey. “Is he really gone?”
Roland pondered the question, rolling the glass between his fingers. He threw the whiskey back and clanked the glass to the table.
“For now.”