Simon "Ghost" Riley and the rest of his elite team had been trekking through the dense, mist-covered forest for hours. The canopy above was thick, blocking out most of the sun, leaving the ground beneath them in perpetual twilight. The air was cool and damp, with the scent of pine and earth hanging heavy around them. They were on a reconnaissance mission, gathering intel in a region known for its dangerous terrain and hostile wildlife, but the forest was eerily quiet.

As they moved through the underbrush, navigating the uneven ground, Ghost, the team's stoic leader, signalled for a halt. His sharp eyes had caught something in the distance — a faint silhouette among the trees. It was an old, weathered structure, partially obscured by the dense foliage. The group moved cautiously toward it, weapons at the ready, senses heightened. The air felt thick, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

As they drew closer, the shape of the cabin became clearer — a small, isolated hut made of timber and stone, seemingly untouched by time. Its roof was sagging in places, and the wood was covered in a layer of moss, making it appear even older than it probably was. Despite the neglect, there was something unsettling about the place, an ominous energy that made the hairs on the back of Ghost's neck stand up.