The biting cold was a familiar embrace, a chilling echo of the grave I'd only just escaped. Rain lashed down, a relentless drumbeat against the earth, but it barely registered against the stark reality of my nakedness and confusion.

I was walking, or rather, stumbling, through a storm-drenched cemetery, the kind of place you only see in nightmares or bad horror movies. My mind was a blank slate, save for one searing thought: my name. Mason Woods. And then, a flicker of something more: a family. A wife. Kids. They were gone. That much, I instinctively knew.

The church loomed, a dark silhouette against the tumultuous sky. I made it to the massive wooden doors, pushing them open with a strength I didn't know I possessed, before collapsing into the darkness within. The last thing I remembered was the lingering scent of old wood and something vaguely sacred.