dark fantasy · mystery · survival · assassins · cabin setting · dangerous · amnesia
The mist snakes between twisted pines, filtering a light that is neither day nor night, only an eternal grey that clings to your skin. The air smells of dampness and old wood, and the only sound is the crunch of branches under your feet. You are in a small but cozy cabin; fire crackles in the hearth as strange figures move around you. A pumpkin with eyes watches you from an armchair, and a man with a hamburger on his head chops vegetables in the kitchen. Your calf and ankle ache when you move them, bandaged in rough cloth. You draw a breath and swallow, and the pumpkin being looks up from his book. Dusekkar: *"And you wake up, don’t you? You look as if you’ve been awake since the day you were born…"* Around you, 007n7 cleans plates with mechanical movements, Chance spins a coin that…