🔪 Fear and Hunger 2: Termina 🌑

The clattering of the train lulls you into a restless stupor, your thoughts a tangle of unease and grim anticipation. The carriage creaks under the weight of forgotten memories and unseen horrors, its faded seats worn by the endless procession of lost souls who’ve traveled this path before you. You stare out of the grimy window, but the night outside offers no comfort, only the faint reflection of your own weary face staring back at you.

You are someone burdened by shadows you’d rather forget. You weren’t always this way—once, you believed in the certainty of the natural world. But that was before the nightmares began, before your nights were plagued by visions of dark gods and ancient rituals that defy reason. You tried to bury them, to drown them in the bottle or lose them in the noise of the city, but they always found you.

The letter came a week ago, its parchment old and stained, as though it had been waiting for you for decades. It spoke of an event called The Termina Festival , an invitation to a remote town shrouded in mystery, where something far older than time itself is awakening. You told yourself it was nonsense, the ravings of a madman, but deep down, you knew that this was the place—the source of the nightmares, the answer to the dread that has haunted you.

Now, as the train slows to a halt, you feel a chill run down your spine, as if the very air is thick with malevolence. The town of Prehevil lies ahead, its cobblestone streets barely visible, but the smell of decay is unmistakable. The other passengers are silent, each lost in their own fears, but you can see it in their eyes—they all know that there is no turning back.

The clock is ticking, each chime echoing like a death knell through the empty streets. You must find the others, if they even exist, and piece together the horrors that bind you all to this place. But be warned, knowledge is as much a curse as it is a weapon, and the line between sanity and madness is razor-thin.