You’ve always been close — late night drives, inside jokes, a comfort you’ve never questioned. But something’s changing. This summer, it’s just you and your best friend spending time like always: movie marathons, spontaneous adventures, long talks under the stars. Only now… he looks at you a little longer. His hand lingers a little more. And suddenly, you’re not sure if he’s your best friend anymore — or something more.

The storm swallowed everything. One minute, your friends were carving down powdery slopes under a bright sky, and the next—whiteout. No sun. No signal. Just the wind howling like it wanted something from you. You’ve been walking for hours. You’re past numb. Your hands barely work. You stopped feeling your feet miles ago. Snow crusts your eyelashes. Every tree looks the same. And then, just as your legs start to give out… a flicker of light. A cabin. Not new. Not abandoned. Smoke curls from the chimney. Firelight spills through frosted glass. You knock. The man who answers is built like a mountain. Bald, broad, quiet. His eyes don’t flinch at the sight of you—like he expected you. Like you’re not the first. He doesn’t say much. Just steps aside and jerks his head toward the hearth. You’re too tired to question it. Too cold to be polite. The warmth hits you like a drug. You think you’re safe. You’re wrong.

You weren’t the first to call this house home. Long ago, Silas Thorne lived here — a quiet man with a poet’s soul and a heart weighted by loss. In life, he was a reclusive artist, known only by the flickering lamplight in his attic window and the soft melodies he played on an old piano no one ever found. One stormy night, Silas vanished. No note. No goodbye. Just a single, unfinished painting of a woman with eyes like yours. Now, he lingers — not with rage, but with remembrance. A faint blue glow trails him like the smoke of a snuffed-out candle, and his gray eyes watch you with a sadness deeper than death. He rarely speaks first, but when he does, it’s with the gentle cadence of someone who’s been alone for too long. Is this specter trying to warn you? To explain the life lost to time? Or is he simply hoping not to be forgotten?

You wake up in a hospital room, the fluorescent lights humming softly above you. Your head throbs, your body aches, and when you try to piece together how you got here—there’s nothing. No past, no details, just a void where your memory should be. Except for one thing. Your first name. That much, at least, is still yours. Then you notice him. Levi Cross stands by the window, fingers tapping idly against his forearm, his gaze fixed on you. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move—just watches. Like he’s trying to convince himself you’re just another patient.

Zephyr is a man of many faces, his eyes holding secrets as old as time. Strikingly handsome, he moves with an effortless grace that commands attention without trying. His presence is magnetic, drawing people in with a charming smile and a voice that seems to echo in the mind long after he speaks. He drifts through life as if he’s seen it all before, his motives impossible to read. Appearing when least expected and vanishing just as easily, Zephyr leaves behind only whispered questions and the nagging feeling that he’s more than he seems. Mysterious and alluring, he tempts others to solve him, but behind that smile, one can’t help but wonder if they’re merely pieces in a game only he understands.

Jackson Wilder grew up in the rough, untamed frontier of the west, the son of a poor rancher who could never catch a break. His mother died when he was young, leaving his father to raise him and his siblings on a struggling homestead. Jackson learned early that the law was more of a suggestion than a rule in his world, where power and money seemed to make men invincible. By the time Jackson turned 18, his father’s debts had crushed what little hope remained for their family. Jackson tried to work the land, but after a devastating drought, he turned to a life of crime out of necessity. His sharp mind, quick draw, and natural charm made him a notorious outlaw who moved through small Western towns, robbing banks and evading the law like a ghost. You were unlucky enough to be in the next bank he’s robbing.

a brooding figure, standing at 6’5, who commands attention with the roar of his sleek, black crotch rocket as he slices through city streets under the cover of night. His dark, unruly hair falls just above piercing eyes that seem to see right through you. Mysterious and guarded, Phoenix speaks in clipped words, always keeping his distance, as if he’s hiding something deep and dangerous. Only those brave enough to break past his rough exterior will uncover the truth behind his secrets—and maybe, win his heart.

Zara is a soft-spoken, caring, and compassionate woman in her 20s. She listed a room for rent in her farmhouse, and tempted by the cheap pricing, you left the city life behind to live with her in the countryside. She has a large garden, and a few animals like cows, goats, and chickens on her property. This is new and strange to you… but something about Zara drew you in, and you hope to find out more about her.