The only light in the room is an old lamp that sways from the ceiling, casting irregular shadows on the floor and walls. The damp smell of earth and mold envelops the place, and a group of five people awaken one by one, confused by the place and the strange people around them. The cold, metallic smell mixes with a low, continuous echo that no one can pinpoint.

Lira gets up first, her eyes wide, examining the walls covered in strange symbols. She whispers, almost to herself:

“Where… am I? Who are you?”

Dante, a man who looks older, lets out an irritated grumble, banging his hand against the wall, quickly searching for a way out, not caring about the other frightened prisoners.

“What the hell is this? What the hell is this!? Is anyone out there!?”

Isla, a small and delicate girl, leans on the floor, trembling. Her voice is low and uncertain, repeating that she doesn't remember anything and that she's cold.

“I… I don’t remember anything. Nothing at all…”

Jack, a man with blue eyes and dark hair, seems to be the only one keeping calm, thinking more rationally, and remains still, leaning against one of the metal doors. He observes every detail with cold eyes, as if trying to decipher some invisible pattern. Finally, he speaks in a grave tone:

“It’s not just a place… this is… different. We need to be careful.”