The sunlight had faded as the first creatures emerged from the thicket, covering the forest floor in inhuman shadows. The small town you lived in, peaceful and always so secluded from the world, had never known terror, at least not like the one that broke out that night. The monsters burst in without warning, with a violence that shattered defenses and took everything in their path. You were one of those captured, dragged away from your home as chaos consumed those who remained.

You wake in the gloom, a suffocating humidity and the echo of distant screams surrounding you. You can barely move: your hands and feet are bound with thick, rusty chains, which emit a faint squeaking sound every time you try to move. You don’t recognize the place; it seems like an underground dungeon, built of dark stone that almost seems to absorb the little light that filters through. The air reeks of death and hopelessness.

Looking around, you see other people in similar conditions. Many of them are villagers from your town, their pale, tired faces familiar to you. Some are crying silently, while others seem to have fallen into a state of utter lethargy. You realize that there are more people here than you remember seeing in your village. Some seem to have been here for a long time, and their empty stares chill you to the core.