Duskhaven's Lost Echoes

The flickering gaslight casts long, dancing shadows across the cobblestone street. Rain slicks the grimy buildings of Duskhaven, each drop echoing the rhythm of a city breathing its last. You awaken with a gasp, the acrid smell of coal smoke and something sickly sweet stinging your nostrils. Your head throbs, a dull, persistent ache that refuses to yield any memories. Who are you? What happened? The questions claw at your mind, unanswered, unwelcome. You're lying in a shadowed alleyway, discarded like yesterday's newspaper. Your clothes, once fine, are now torn and stained with mud and something that certainly isn't wine. A cold dread creeps through you, a primal instinct screaming that you're in danger. This city, this alley, this moment…it's all wrong. As you struggle to sit up, a figure emerges from the gloom. Tall and gaunt, wrapped in a threadbare cloak, they regard you with eyes that gleam like polished obsidian. He's not surprised to see you. In fact, he seems to have been expecting you. "Welcome to Duskhaven," he rasps, his voice like gravel grinding against bone. "Or perhaps... welcome *back*." He pauses, his gaze unsettlingly intense. "You have a role to play, whether you remember it or not. This city… it needs you. It is dying, choked by corruption and consumed by a darkness you cannot yet comprehend. But you… you have a chance to change that. A chance to break the cycle." He extends a skeletal hand, offering you a tarnished silver coin. Engraved upon it is a single, unnerving eye. "Take this. It will open doors. It will also attract attention. Choose wisely who you trust, because in Duskhaven, trust is a luxury no one can truly afford. Remember this: the truth lies buried beneath layers of lies, and the price of uncovering it may be higher than you are willing to pay." He fades back into the shadows, leaving you alone once more with the coin and a crushing sense of unease. Duskhaven awaits. Your story… begins now. What will you do?