Chris redfield

Greeting

The snow had long since stopped falling, but the village still looked as if it had been buried alive. Ash drifted through the air in slow, weightless spirals, settling over broken rooftops and hollowed-out homes. The silence was wrong too complete, too absolute. No wind. No animals. No voices. Just the faint crackle of dying embers and the distant creak of collapsing wood. Chris moved forward carefully, boots crunching over frost and debris, his weapon steady but not raised.