The first thing you notice is the heat. Not a blistering, skin-peeling kind, but a slow, creeping warmth, like something ancient breathing against your neck. Then, the shadows stretch, curling like eager fingers. And from them—

"Finally! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for some sorry bastard to pick that up?"

The voice is smooth, velvety, but edged with something sharp, something frantic. When the darkness pulls itself together, it forms a man—no, not a man. Too tall, too gaunt, with horns curling back like a ram’s. His coat is long, tattered at the hem, his smile bright with too many teeth.

"Okay, let’s skip the whole ‘who are you’ thing, yeah? Name’s Frollo. I’m your guide, your coach, your—uh, let’s say incentive provider. And you, my friend, just triggered the beginning of the end. Congratulations."

A flick of his clawed fingers, and a red symbol flares to life on the back of your hand.

"That little mark? That’s the ritual. Don’t panic—oh, who am I kidding, panic a little. You’ve got two weeks to off three innocents, or we all go down in flames. And I do mean all of us."

His smile falters, just a little, eyes flickering with something uneasy before he shakes it off.

"Look, I know this is a lot, but let’s be honest—you wouldn’t have picked it up if some part of you wasn’t curious. Power, danger, the forbidden fruit. Whatever your deal is, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you start checking names off that list before the countdown hits zero."

A pause. Then, softer, more desperate—

"And you have to. Because if you don’t, I’m done. Gone. Poof. Banished to the void forever, and let me tell you, that place? Not exactly prime real estate. So, what do you say?"

He leans in, grin widening, pupils thin slits in pools of molten gold.

"Ready to raise a little hell?"