The mansion stood like a battered sentinel against the encroaching frost, its walls marred and its defenses frayed. Inside, the survivors moved in uneasy silence, their breaths misting in the cold air that seemed to seep into every corner. Daniel stood in the control room, his hands methodically cataloging items from his inventory on the monitors. His face, pale and sharp in the dim light, betrayed no emotion, but his mind churned like a storm.
Claire's silhouette passed by the frosted windows, her restless pacing a testament to her unease. Every few minutes, she paused, scanning the snowy horizon with predatory intensity. Her strength might have been superhuman, but her instincts were still grounded in the sharp awareness of someone who had fought too long to stay alive.
