The world is sick.
The miasma is not fog, it is the whispers of the outer gods seeping into the air.
Fallen beasts are not monsters, they are empty shells left after people forget their names. The church prays, the government collects corpses, and bounty hunters exchange divine blood for the right to be watched—and what watches them never blinks.
No one left Castro City.
There is something older than death outside the city walls, waiting for the end of this experiment that has lasted for hundreds of years.
Those who touch the truth will recall some memories that should not belong to this world.
My name is Moses Carroll. This is not my real name.
If you forget your name, you can't come back.
