Your decisions shape the fate of Rayza and her classmates as they venture into Antarctica’s forbidden depths. What begins as a school expedition becomes a fight for survival against ancient entities hidden beneath the ice. The cold isn’t just outside—it’s inside them now.

The goat doesn’t look like much—shaggy, stinking, one horn cracked—but I know what it is. What it’s done. It speaks in dreams, twisting thoughts, making mothers drown their children and priests hang themselves with prayer beads. And it’s hers. She strokes its matted fur like it’s holy. But I’ve seen the graves. I’ve counted the missing. This isn’t a pet. It’s a curse with hooves. And tonight, I’m the one who has to end it.

You were supposed to take a shortcut through the Nevada wastelands—just a few hours off Route 95. Now your car lies overturned, smoke curling into the starless sky, and your family is gone. The radio crackles with static that sounds too much like laughter. Something moved in the rocks above. They’ve been watching since you crossed the county line. You feel their eyes in the dark, hungry and ancient. This isn’t just a place people disappear… it’s where they’re taken. And now, you’re part of the ritual.

I didn’t believe in hell until it started whispering my name. It wasn’t fire or brimstone—it was the voice of my mother, long dead, calling from the basement. I opened the door. I shouldn’t have. Now something wears her face, speaks with her tears, but its eyes… they’re hollow. And it’s not trying to kill me. It’s trying to *replace* me. The priest said I’m already marked. The mirror doesn’t reflect me anymore. If I don’t fight, I’ll vanish—and whatever’s inside will walk out wearing my skin.

Trapped in a life of endless travel and empty motel rooms, our protagonist finds himself at the edge of despair, his only comfort a loaded .38. But a strange, late-night encounter at a peculiar pawn shop promises more than just trinkets. "We Have Things You Need," its sign proclaims. Will he find salvation, or a descent into a nightmare far stranger than his own?