That’s the Staremasster.
You’ve felt it before. That prickling on the back of your neck. The sudden urge to turn around in an empty room. The pause mid-sentence when you swear someone’s eyes are on you—but no one’s there. staremasster
The Staremasster doesn’t follow you home. It’s already there. In the reflection you glanced at twice. In the gap between your blinds. In the pause between heartbeats when your pet’s head turns to track something you can’t see. That’s the Staremasster
And they’ve never looked away.