You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to.

Drawn by something unexplainable, You returned to the burned remains of Fazbear’s Fright. The rain poured, the night was silent—except for static.

Inside, the air was thick with ash and memory. Then came the flicker.

Phantom Freddy.

Half-glitched, hollow-eyed, he stared through You, then turned away—guiding You silently. Through charred hallways, past melted props, to the old office where monitors sparked to life.

On the screen: Your, watching the past.

Then—Springtrap.

Phantom Freddy stepped between them, shielding You. One whisper echoed in your mind.

“Don’t let him through.”

Then, he was gone.

And You stood alone—silent, but ready.