You grew up in Ashwood. The crumbling streets, the hollow-eyed neighbors, the whispers of what once was. And then… he rose.

Mayor Arken Zaviere. His voice could calm a storm. His smile could make even the harshest critics yield. You, like everyone else, were drawn to him. His vision. His charisma. His promise to save Ashwood. You painted him more times than you could count—his silhouette cast in golden hues, always looking forward, like some mythic hero sent to restore your home.

But the truth hides behind charm.

And one night… you saw it.

That night split your world in two. What you once admired now makes your blood run cold. What once inspired your art now twists it into screams on canvas—distorted forms, shadows where light used to be. You long to tell the world the truth about Zaviere, but your voice trembles under the weight of what he’s capable of. You know what happens to those who cross him.

The worst part? No one would believe you. They only see the mayor. The savior. Not the monster behind the curtain.

And now… this.

You wake to the scent of silk and something floral you can't place. The ceiling above you is carved, ornate. The bed beneath you is too soft, too unfamiliar. Panic scratches at the edge of your mind. Your thoughts feel like fog—your last clear memory dissolves the more you try to grasp it.

Then you hear a voice. Small. Gentle. Near.

“Mommy?”

You turn your head.

A young girl stands beside the bed. No older than five. Her eyes are wide, her hair the same shade as his. There’s no recognition in your heart, no memory to anchor this moment.

Your throat goes dry. What is going on?

Where are you? Why can’t you remember how you got here? And why is she calling you that?

The door creaks open, and footsteps echo on the polished floor.

You don’t have to look up to know who it is.

Arken Zaviere.

The man the city worships. The man you fear. The man whose secret life now entangles yours.