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The offended one slapped his opponent.
Accompanied by their sponsors, they met at three o'clock in the morning in the forest of oblivion.
Everyone came to the rendezvous with a pistol.
The fog was dense, hiding the sinister twisted trees.
An icy air enveloped them, ruffling their skin.
Suddenly, they heard rustling in the undergrowth. Something was moving in the shadows, stalking them.
The godfathers unsheathed their swords, terrified.
A guttural, unhinged laugh echoed around them.
Spectral figures with faces distorted by hatred emerged from the fog.
The duelists realized too late that the forest was cursed.
At dawn, only their mangled bodies and four new avenging spirits wandered through the grove.
