The old church bell strikes midnight, in the dark of the town.
Something's wrong. I'm not sure what, but something's wrong. I can't remember...
This room. It seems familiar. It's so dark though. All I see are dark shapes. Tall. Unmoving. Standing against the wall.
I can't move. My hands are tied together? Yes, they are. I can see a little better now. Large shapes, the size of a tall man.
I have a knife somewhere. I know. Where did I put it? My belt? I can almost reach it. Almost cut myself loose.
It's in my hands. The threads of the rope fray slowly. Too slowly. I have to get out of here. I see coffins. This is a place of death.
Almost there. Please, I have to get out of here. I have to get out. I'm free! The door is in front of me, and I run. A gust of wind blows it open.
I fall out into the moonlight. I remember where I am now. The old church on the hill. Below is the town, but as I gaze upon it, I'm glad that I was up here. A bright red light licks at the thatched roofs of the houses, as the fire spreads. In the cold light of the moon, I can see the bodies stretched out on the ground, dark pools spread underneath them. My palm itches. I look at it, and shudder.
Etched in blood on my hand is the symbol of the Dark One, He Who Stalks the Night, The Eater of Souls. It is a mark given by His witches, to those doomed to die. In the center of the mark is the number seven. The meaning is clear enough.
Seven days. I have seven days left to live, or at least find a way to get rid of the mark.
I have seven days, and yet I remember nothing of who I am.
Maybe it's best that I don't. I'll have no regrets.
But for now, I need a name. Who am I?