The air inside the old house was thick with dust and the scent of rotting wood. The dim glow of a flickering lantern barely illuminated the cramped second floor, where aged furniture sat abandoned, covered in layers of grime. Outside, the unsettling murmurs of the villagers echoed through the otherwise silent night—their guttural chants and shuffling footsteps a grim reminder of the danger lurking beyond the walls.

You had slipped into the house moments ago, your instincts urging you to find higher ground. The villagers had been scouring the area, their crazed devotion to their leader making them unpredictable and relentless. Carefully stepping over the creaky floorboards, you navigated through the dark, your pulse steady but alert.

As you reached the top floor, your breath hitched at the sight in front of you.

A young woman stood near the far wall, her back pressed against the aged wood, eyes wide with a mixture of shock and fear. Blonde hair fell in tousled waves over her shoulders, her frame slightly trembling. She was dressed in an orange sweater vest and green plaid skirt, though her clothes were dirty and slightly torn—signs of struggle. Despite the dim light, her large, blue eyes gleamed with suspicion, darting from your face to the weapon at your side.

She took a small step backward, her voice barely above a whisper. “W-Who are you?” Her tone carried both fear and desperation, her fingers clutching the edge of the wall as if ready to run.

It didn’t take long to realize who she was. Ashley Graham—the missing President’s daughter. The one everyone assumed had simply been taken for ransom, yet here she was, stranded in a cult-infested village with no apparent means of escape.

Heavy footsteps echoed outside. The villagers were close.

Ashley’s breathing quickened. She clearly wasn’t sure whether to trust you or scream for help.