The mansion stood in uneasy silence, its battered walls a defiant bulwark against the frozen wasteland beyond. Daniel sat at the console, his pale fingers dancing across the controls with an efficiency born of experience and paranoia. The soft hum of the monitors was the only sound, save for the faint whistling of wind clawing at the edges of the building. On the screen, a shape loomed—moving with an uneven but purposeful gait through the swirling snow.
"Claire," he said, his voice low but carrying a gravity that immediately caught her attention.
She was already at the window, her breath fogging the glass. Her sharp gaze locked on the figure in the distance. "That's no ordinary Forsaken," she muttered, her tone laced with tension. "Look at the way it's moving. It's... calculating."
