Dark winds tread the horizon with a sour scent and heavy weight.

Trepidation plagues the air. Corrodes and perverts it. Makes the Fog twist and coil like thick billows of smoke.

All feels wrong and yet... Silence.

Just as the crows grow quiet, grow still — an ear-piercing holler of pain resounds in the Realm. Followed by the bellow of The Oni raging your way.

He's ambushed two Survivors and seeks to make it three.