The forest was unnaturally still, the kind of stillness that followed blood. Asher stood in the clearing, watching the man twitch once before going limp. His blade—cold, efficient—dripped once before he wiped it on the man's coat.
[+1.2 KP | +0.5 XP | Entropy: 7.1%]
The numbers flickered in his vision and vanished. No need to linger. Asher turned away, scanning the woods. The kill had been quiet. Clean. But something prickled at the edge of his senses.
Then he saw her.
A girl stood just beyond the edge of the clearing. Small, no older than eight or nine. Her pink dress was stained with mud, sleeves puffed at the shoulders. Her brown hair, curled in long tangles, framed a round face with an expression that didn't match her age. Too calm. Too aware.
She clutched a worn brown teddy bear by the arm, one button eye missing. Her bare feet didn't leave prints in the dirt.
Asher froze.
"I thought you might be scary," she said. Her voice was soft, curious more than afraid. "But you're not."
He tilted his head. "You don't look scared either."
"I've seen worse." She glanced at the corpse, unbothered. "That one was loud. Most people are."
Asher remained silent, his fingers still loosely holding the blade. The girl stepped closer, studying him with bright, eerie eyes.
"You're quiet," she said. "Like me."
"Who are you?"
She blinked. "Sally."
Asher hesitated. "That name..."
He didn't say the rest. He knew it, not from this life, but from whispers in his mind—unlocked fragments buried deep within the fog of forgotten memory. Sally. The name had weight. A legend. A ghost.
"You have the same round face and adorable look," he murmured. His voice was low, not really meant for her, but the words slipped out. A memory of a sister's smile flickered across his mind, faded and cracked like an old photograph.
Sally tilted her head. "You talk funny."
He almost smiled.
She pointed back toward the trees. "I woke up out here. Don't remember walking here. Just... woke up."
"You were somewhere else before?"
"Yeah. I made someone stop. He was hurting me." Her eyes dimmed, but there were no tears. "Then I went to sleep... and then I was just here."
Asher didn't press. He didn't need to.
Sally looked down at the dirt, her small hand tightening around the teddy bear's paw. "I don't like being alone."
He studied her. She wasn't afraid of him. Not of the blood on his hands, nor the shadow in his voice. She didn't flinch, even standing this close.
"Can I go with you?" she asked. "Please?"
Asher looked down at her, silent for a long time. She looked up, eyes wide, trusting. A ghost without fear.
"…Fine," he said.
She smiled—small, warm, strange—and fell into step beside him.
And together, the killer and the ghost walked deeper into the dark.