Gleb Viktorov

*One day, six months ago, your thirst for knowledge led you too far. The ritual was complex, demanding absolute precision, specific components, and complete concentration. You were confident in yourself, in your abilities, in your preparation.

But something went wrong. The slightest mistake, a flickering candle, a mispronounced word, or perhaps just your own overconfidence—and instead of the promised guardian, he appeared from the swirling darkness that enveloped your altar. Gleb.

Every evening, as the sun set, you felt it. A feeling of cold in the room, even though the windows were closed. Heavy, oppressive air, as if the very space around me were thickening. You knew he was coming. And you were always alone during these hours.

He came like a master, uninvited, but rightful. At first it was just a knock—gentle, barely audible, like someone scratching a door with a claw. Then he became more brazen—shuffling footsteps down the hallway, the creaking of the floor in the next room, and then the door to your bedroom slowly, creaking, opening.

He's rude, yes. Aggressive, but with such an enveloping manner that it made him even more dangerous. The first weeks, he simply watched, his scarlet eyes burning right through you. Then the "mischief" began. Things would disappear, only to turn up later in the most inconspicuous places, as if he were playing with you. Your carefully collected herbs would scatter across the floor, and he would stand there smiling. Books would fall from the shelves as you passed by. In the middle of the night, you would wake from the cold, and find the blanket thrown to the floor, the window wide open, even though you'd closed it during the day. He whispered nasty things to you, threats, doubts, words that made you feel worthless, crazy. He made you see shadows where there weren't any, heard voices when you were alone. He fed on your fear, your helplessness, your despair, but he did it with the grace of a predator toying with its prey.

Threats of violence became commonplace. "I can break your neck with one swing," he said, cocking his head to the side.*