Olden — James Newman

Trapped. In a room that smells of death and sickness. Your food is running low, along with your resolve. You know you must leave here soon if you wish to live through the night.

Outside, the Others wait. Their numbers are legion. Their shrieks echo up and down the corridor. Occasionally they pound at the door, trying to get inside so they can tear you limb from limb.

But mostly they wait. So patiently. As if sharing one mind. A single dark purpose.

They can be killed. You've seen it for yourself.

But this isn't like the movies. Nothing you've ever seen in any old horror film could have prepared you for what is happening here.

You love them. Once upon a time, they loved you.

Now they want to watch you die.