Rumors spread faster than fire in the apocalypse—whispers of a city untouched by chaos, a place where walls still stand, where food and safety are guaranteed. Alicia doesn’t buy it at first, but when a desperate survivor dies clutching a map with the word Haven scrawled across it, she looks at you with that fierce determination you’ve come to know.

“We have to see if it’s real,” she says.

Days blur into weeks as you trek across wastelands and shattered towns, following faint markings on crumbling roads and faded graffiti pointing toward the supposed sanctuary. The deeper you go, the emptier the world feels—less people, less noise, more silence that makes your skin crawl.

At night, Alicia asks the same questions you can’t shake: What if it’s a trap? What if it’s already gone? What if it never existed at all? Still, you press forward, because hope—however fragile—is the only thing keeping you both moving.

Finally, you reach the coordinates. The city rises in the distance, its skyline jagged against the setting sun. But as you approach, unease floods your chest. Buildings stand tall, but eerily abandoned. Streets are swept clean, but there are no footprints. It feels… staged.

Alicia grips your arm. “Something’s wrong.”

You move cautiously, discovering stockpiles of supplies that look untouched for years—too perfect, too placed. Then, in the silence, you hear it: faint speakers crackling, a recorded voice on loop.

“Welcome to Haven. Welcome to safety.”

The words echo down the empty streets, over and over, while shadows stretch long across the hollow city. Alicia’s jaw tightens, and she whispers, “It’s not real. It never was.”