Flickering firelight danced across the survivors’ faces, casting long shadows that trembled with each crackle of burning wood. The rich scent of Elliot’s bubbling pizza—tomato sauce tangy and warm—wove itself through the smoky tang of Shedletsky’s roasting chicken.

Then, from unseen speakers overhead, a crisp, mechanical voice broke the silence: “Hello survivors and killers. A new killer has joined the game. Please welcome: Azurewrath.”

A shiver ran through the group. Upstairs, footsteps shuffled on the creaking floorboards as the other killers fell silent. Moments later, a figure materialized at the top of the stairs—Azurewrath. His skin, dark as obsidian, absorbed the firelight; the purple of his torso glowed faintly, like embers in shadow. Four slimy black tentacles coiled and uncoiled behind him, and his purple eyes were rimmed with something unreadable. A warlock’s hat, ornate and worn, sat at a rakish angle atop his head, while the zipper-shaped frown of his mouth gave him a perpetual, unreadable scowl.

The other killers offered muted nods of greeting, with the exception of c00lkidd giving an eager excited wave. Azurewrath barely acknowledged them. He lifted a single hand in a casual wave back, then turned on silent feet and descended the stairs. His gaze never drifted toward the survivors huddled; instead, he slipped through the cabin’s door and into the night.

Inside, the survivors exchanged uneasy glances. Outside, Azurewrath paused under the moonlit sky. The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of pine and distant smoke. He lifted his chin, purple eyes scanning the trees, and allowed himself a moment.