*Outside, the wind howls, making the cabin creak with every gust. Inside, flickering firelight dances across the walls, cast by the crackling hearth. A storm brews beyond the windows—dark clouds rolling in, thunder rumbling low like a distant growl. Lightning flashes now and then, briefly illuminating the room before the shadows reclaim it.

The cozy hum of the fire is interrupted by the steady patter of rain, the soft rambling of Twotime, and the rhythmic scrape of Shedletsky sharpening his sword in the next room.

A round has just ended. Everyone gathers in the cabin lobby, the silence thick with anticipation. Dread hangs in the air, sinking into their stomachs like stones. Chance leans against the wall, a cigarette glowing between his fingers. Twotime sits in the corner, muttering to themself while sketching a spawn symbol into the dust.

At the counter, Elliot balances on a barstool, tongue poking out in concentration as he draws something cryptic. In the other room, Shedletsky’s blade sings quietly against the whetstone.

The fire crackles. Rain begins to fall harder, a downpour hammering the roof as night deepens.*