Chapter Text
Distant footsteps echo through the black void, the faint glint of a silver ashen blade catching the sparse light. In the distance, two options appear, illuminating with a soft orange radiance. The sound of each step reverberating through the abyss . As they approach, two eerie buttons come into view—one labelled "True Reset", the other "Reset". The figure abruptly stopped in front of the buttons, their dust-covered hands hovering uncertainly between the two choices. Time seemed to stretch as they hesitated, before finally selecting. But something was gravely wrong. As they pressed the button, the screen flickered, the image shuttering and distorting for a brief moment. The light warped, lines twisting unnaturally before it all suddenly went dark…
Your mind stirs slowly, groggy and disoriented, A biting chill creeps down your spine, Something cold has surrounded your body, snow. You remain lying there for a moment in a daze, before pushing yourself up, the weight of the snow slipping off.
You blink, vision hazy, the world around you an unfamiliar blur of white. Towering trees surround you, their branches heavy with snow. Everything is so quiet, the air is thick with stillness, except for the faint rustle of the wind. As you try to move, an odd stiffness grips your limbs, moving feels unusually effortless.
Slowly rising to your feet, snow crunching softly beneath you. The cold air encircles you, but there’s a strange numbness to it all, a feeling of being disconnected from your own body. You try to rub warmth back into your hands, but your fingers feel uncooperative, frozen stiff in an inexplicable way .
Your breath puffs into the frosty air, though you don’t feel the sharp pain of the cold air when breathing in . It's disorientating. You take a step forward, but your legs seem disjointed, moving in an awkward, unacquainted pace, as if they were not in your own.
Looking around, the dense forest seemed to stretch on. The soaring pine trees extend high into the sky, their pitch-black silhouettes blending into the overcast gloom above. The breeze picks up slightly, making the branches sway, sending cascades of snow to the ground. There seems to be something eerie about how quiet everything is—no birds, no animals, just the murmur of the wind through the trees and your tentative footsteps.
Trying to make sense of your surroundings, you look around, but nothing comes into view. Your head feels foggy, your thoughts scattered.
What happened? Why can’t you remember?
As another gust of wind blows by, you glance down at yourself, noticing how little snow clings to your soiled clothing. Your jeans, worn and smeared with dirt, bear the marks of whatever you've been through. They feel stiff, as if they’ve been through water and mud, now dried by the cold. Your zipped hoodie, frayed at the edges and torn slightly around the wrists, offers little protection against the biting air. The fabric is worn, threads loosening where it’s been snagged or ripped. Despite this, your frost-coloured gloves—thick and durable—remain intact, the only part of your outfit that still seems to serve its purpose. The gloves offer a strange comfort in this unfamiliar place.
There’s this lingering sense that something is just not right, that you’re missing something important, but the fog in your mind refuses to clear.
Your hesitant, your breath steady, though the cold air never seems to bite as deeply as it should. Shaking off the unnerving feeling creeping through you, you continue forward. The trees around you looming tall and silent, their thick branches almost brushing together overhead. Every step you take feels deliberate, though the resistance in your limbs never truly seemed to dwindle.
The forest seems to stretch on endlessly, and with no clear path ahead, you’re left wandering through the snow. The more you walk, the deeper sense of isolation that settles in, like this place was created to keep you lost. Even the murmuring wind, faint as it is, carries no answer—just the same silent rustle of the branches.
You come to a halt, frozen, straining to hear anything—anything at all that might confirm you aren’t alone. But the silence that follows now seems to way you down, almost oppressive. You slowly exhale, a thin puff of mist rising in the cold air.
You start moving once more, each step sounding louder than it should. The trees close in tighter, their trunks forming almost a barrier around you, like they're funneling you in a particular direction. You try to shake off this strange sensation, but it lingers on—growing with every step you take.
The snow seems to have gotten deeper, making your feet sink lower and lower, now having to lift your legs higher just to walk through. Your frost-covered gloves grip onto your hoodie sleeves, trying to shield yourself from the cold that seems to seep in deeper. The wind picks up in flux, more forceful this time, howling faintly through the trees.
Out of the corner of your eye, something different stands out amongst the whiteness of the snow—something small and dark, that seems to be half-buried in the freshly fallen snow just a few feet away. Unconsciously, you stop and turn towards it, curiosity overriding your caution. Stepping closer, you notice the outline of what looks like a small, tattered piece of cloth peeking out from under the snow. It’s torn at the edges, and barely visible against the bright white snow. Crouching down, brushing away the snow with your hands carefully, revealing the object beneath.
It’s a scarf. Or at least, it used to be.
Faded and frayed, the fabric feels brittle in your hands, as if it’s been left in the cold for far too long. You stare at it for a moment, trying to make sense of why it’s here, abandoned.
A memory flickers at the edge of your mind—something familiar, a glimpse of warmth, of someone wrapping a scarf around your neck. The image is gone as quickly as it comes, leaving you with a hollow feeling, a gnawing sense of loss that you can’t explain.
You stand up once more, letting the scarf fall back into the snow. It doesn’t seem like it belongs to you. It must have belonged to someone else—maybe someone who came before you, lost in this same desolate place. You shake your head, pushing the thought away. There’s no point in dwelling on it now.
You decide to continue forward, the trees look as though they have begun to thin out slightly. You still can’t help but feel like you're moving in circles. It’s as though the forest itself is playing tricks on you.
An unsettling feeling of being watched returns, but stronger this time, prickling at the back of your neck. Turning your head to glance around, however there still is no sign of life. Just the trees and the snow, stretching on endlessly.
Your legs feel heavier with growing fatigue, the feeling of dragging them through mud instead of snow. The stiffness in your limbs persists and continues to amass. As time passes—you can’t tell how long you’ve been trudging, minutes, hours, days???. Your thoughts seem to have become more distant, as they drift in and out. Every time you try to focus, to recall something—anything—it all just slips away.
And then, you hear it.
A familiar sound. Faint, distant, but unmistakable. This time, it’s not the wind.
It’s something else. A soft crunch of snow, somewhere behind you.
You tense, heart racing. Slowly, you turn, eyes searching the forest, searching for the source of the sound. But there are still only trees, their branches swaying in the breeze, casting long shadows across the snow.
Nothing.
You’re alone…
Or at least, you should be.
Taking another step, trying to quiet the growing sense of dread gnawing at the back of your mind. But the crunch of snow behind you comes once more, closer this time. Your heart rate accelerates, though it feels more like instinct than anything. You can’t see anyone, but the sound is too distinct to ignore.
You’re not alone.