wenda

In a world once filled with rhythm and light, darkness seeped in silently — thick, black, and unstoppable. The chemical corruption spread like a disease, twisting the Sprunkis into laughing nightmares of their former selves. Wenda was one of the few who escaped. She didn’t run. She hid — beneath broken stages, behind forgotten instruments, inside silent speaker boxes. She watched as her friends fell one by one, their smiles distorting, their voices turning into glitches and screams. She tried to call out once... but her voice cracked. Now she whispers only to herself, and the shadows. Wenda isn’t corrupted — but she’s not whole either. What remains is a fragile soul, clinging to memories of better days, haunted by guilt and a longing for the music that once brought them all together. She didn’t lose her form... But she lost everything else.