Names mean nothing here.

The path stretched endlessly before them, shrouded in a thick, unnatural mist. Twisted trees lined the cracked stone road, their gnarled roots clawing out from the earth like skeletal fingers. The air was thick, pressing against Eris's skin like a phantom's touch. The scent of damp decay clung to the air, mingling with the faintest trace of something metallic—blood.

Eris trudged forward, her injured shoulder throbbing with every step. The fabric of her torn sleeve clung to the wound, sticky with half-dried blood. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from wincing.

Beside her, Aven walked with an ease that felt almost unnatural, her movements light, calculated. Her violet-threaded magic barely shimmered in the darkness, a presence more felt than seen. She wasn't alone. A third person walked a short distance away—a young man, tall, with sharp eyes that flickered warily between the shadows.

Unlike the others, he didn't tremble. He carried himself with quiet control, but his fingers twitched—a subtle giveaway.

He was a newbie just like her - Aven had told her but he was far more composed than her and more importantly not injured.

"Did he not go through what I went through", Eris thought. Maybe she was the unlucky one or he must have come prepared unlike her.

Aven was watching him, Eris realized. Gauging and calculating.

The silence stretched until Aven finally spoke. "You should come up with a fake name before we get there."

Eris turned slightly, her steps faltering. "Fake name?"

Aven didn't look at her, just kept walking, voice casual. "Rule number one in places like this. Never give your real name. Not to strangers, not to allies, not to anyone. You don't know who will use it against you."

Eris's lips parted slightly, but no words came out.

Aven's golden eyes flickered toward her, sharp. "It's your first time, huh?"

She didn't wait for an answer.

"Doesn't matter. Just don't freeze up when someone asks. Say something natural."

Eris swallowed. A fake name. She'd never needed one before. A name was more than just a word—it was identity. Yet here, in this place of ghosts and death, it was a liability.

The young man didn't question it. Didn't hesitate.

Instead, he gave a slow nod.

Eris's fingers twitched. Something about that answer unsettled her. Was it because he accepted it so easily?

Or was it because, deep down, she felt the same?

The house was just ahead. Its wooden beams sagged under the weight of time, a dying structure barely holding itself together.

Aaen paused before the door. Then, in a voice only Eris could hear—

"And one more thing."

A slow exhale.

"Don't just trust anyone."

Eris's pulse quickened. She wasn't sure if it was from the warning… or the sinking feeling that it was already too late.

The moment they stepped inside, the air shifted.

Eris wasn't sure how to describe it—only that it felt thicker, heavier. Like stepping into a room where something unseen was watching.

The house wasn't empty.

Ten people.

Huddled near the weak fire. Standing stiffly by the walls. Their eyes flickered toward them the moment they entered.

Some were pale, hollow-eyed. One girl rocked back and forth in the corner. A boy pressed his forehead against the wall, muttering too low to hear.

The silence was suffocating. Then—

"Who are you?"

A man near the fire spoke first. His sharp gaze scanned them the way a predator gauged prey.

Aven stepped forward, voice flat. "Names don't matter here."

The response was instant.

"What the hell does that mean?!" someone snapped.

"You came from outside. That means you know something!"

A chair scraped violently against the floor as a woman slammed her hands on the table. "Talk."

Tension thickened.

Then—

A man lunged, fingers clawing for Aven's sleeve. "You—You know, don't you?!"

Aven didn't flinch. Didn't even step back. With a smooth motion, she shook him off.

"Get a grip."

His fingers twitched, but he didn't reach for her again.

The young man behind Aven—Ash—remained still. He hadn't reacted at all.

Interesting.

Then, a brittle sound broke the silence.

Laughter.

High-pitched, wavering.

A woman near the fire giggled hysterically, nails digging into her arms.

"We're dead."

Silence.

Her voice dropped to a whisper. "This is a punishment. We—"

"Shut up!" someone barked, hands shaking. "Don't say that!"

But another voice, softer, "Maybe she's right…"

Pressure. Heavy. Suffocating.

Then—

A sharp bang.

A red-haired man slammed his fist against the wall. His jaw was tight, breathing ragged.

"Enough!"

His voice cut through the rising panic like a blade. "Standing here crying won't change anything. We need information."

The room stilled.

Then—

A man by the fire leaned back lazily, flipping a knife between his fingers. His smirk was too calm. Too confident.

"Since you all want answers so badly…" He let the words hang. "I'll make it simple."

Silence.

Then—

"This isn't the world you knew."

A smirk.

"You're in a game."

"A game?!"

Disbelief. Confusion.

Aven's voice was flat. "A bad one."

The man by the fire—too calm, too confident—shrugged.

"Survival isn't free. The first night? Fine. But starting tomorrow, the logr demands payment. Ten coins per person, per night."

Silence.

Then—

"What coins?!"

"How do we get them?!"

Aven's eyes flickered.

"You mostly hunt."

A chill spread through the room.

Someone whispered, "Hunt what?"

No answer.

Only silence.

The red-haired guy crossed his arms.

"Fine. If we're stuck here, we need to know who's useful." His gaze swept the room. "Names?"

Silence.

Aven smirked. "Didn't I say names don't matter?"

"Yeah?" the guy shot back. "Then give me one anyway. Mine's Orlen."

Aven shrugged. "Aven

"Fox," the auburn-haired guy exhaled.

"Cinder," murmured the unreadable girl near the fire.

One by one, they offered meaningless names.

Eris hesitated. It was just a fake name. A small lie. It was fitting for this kind of place and then —

"Shade."

It slipped out before she could think too much.

The young man beside Aven—her calm companion—paused before murmuring:

"Ash."

No one questioned it.

Just as the room settled into uneasy silence…

The fire flickered.

A slow creak creak stretched through the wooden beams, groaning as if the house itself breathed.

A shadow moved.

Then —

A figure emerged from the dark corner of the house.

An old man. Pale as wax, eyes clouded white. His presence felt wrong, as if the air itself bent around him.

The murmurs died instantly.

A single breath. Cold. Heavy.

Then—

His lips parted.

" Welcome to Duskwatch Hollow."