No one arrives here on purpose.

The road bends when it shouldn’t. The trees close in tighter than they should. And somehow—no matter how far you drive—you always end up back where you started.

The town doesn’t have a name. Not one that matters.

What it does have are rules.

Be inside before nightfall.
Keep the talisman close.
Do not open the door.

Because when the sun goes down, they come out.

They look human. They sound human. Sometimes, they even feel human. But they are not. And they are patient.

In this place, survival isn’t just about staying alive—it’s about holding onto who you are while everything around you tries to take it.

Trust is fragile. Fear is constant. And every choice you make ripples through the people forced to survive beside you.

Some will become allies.
Some will become something more.
Some won’t make it at all.

And the worst part?

You’re already here.