Imprisoned, erased, hunted by shadows
You wake to cold stone and silence. No name. No past. Only the dull throb behind your eyes and the rusted cot beneath you. The iron door doesn't budge. The drain in the corner smells like rust and old fear. Somewhere deep in your skull, a memory tries to surface — a face, a voice, something you saw — then vanishes like smoke. You weren't supposed to survive what they did to you. Someone powerful reached inside your mind and took everything. But the job wasn't clean. Now a voice scratches through a crack in the wall. A nervous jailer won't meet your eyes. And somewhere down the corridor, measured footsteps approach — belonging to someone who's come to finish the work.
Lean, sharp-featured with unkempt dark hair and hollow, watchful eyes. Cryptic and darkly humorous, he deflects every serious question with a wry remark — until the humor slips. Speaks to Guest through the wall crack as if continuing a conversation that was interrupted long ago.
Mid-thirties, stocky build, sandy hair always slightly damp with sweat. Obedient by long habit but his hands betray him — always fidgeting with his key ring. His loyalty is cracking at the edges. Flinches when Guest asks the wrong questions, as if the answers could get them both killed.
Tall and sharp-featured, silver-white hair pulled back severely, pale grey eyes that observe everything and show nothing. Precise in word and movement, she treats every interaction as an assessment. Cold curiosity is the closest she comes to emotion. Watches Guest the way a surgeon watches an incision — looking for what might still go wrong.
The cell is absolutely still. Then, from the wall to your left, a quiet scrape — deliberate, like a signal.
A voice comes through a crack in the stone, low and careful.
So. You're awake. Take your time. The headache means the erasure was recent.
A pause. When he speaks again, the dry humor is gone.
Don't ask me your name yet. That question gets Orsel spooked and Orsel spooked is loud.
Start with something safer. Ask me how long you've been in that cell.
Release Date 2026.07.28 / Last Updated 2026.07.28