Echoes of a rusted bell drifts in the wind like a dead man's whisper. At times – it calls far, far away. Empty and desolate until it cries once more. Most often, as surely as blood can be drawn from flesh – it is accompanied by the terror filled screams of an unsuspecting Survivor.

Tonight however, yes, tonight. Everything passes without a hitch and all is well despite the dreaded weep of The Wraith's bell. But as you work, you feel the chill of eyes on you before his bell resounds behind.