Silent Hill is an ordinary mining town built on the shores of Lake Toluca. For most people, for a long time, it was no different from hundreds of other provincial towns lost among forests and hills. However, those who lived on these lands long before the city was founded—the indigenous inhabitants—always considered this place cursed.

They believed that the very ground here was tainted, and that the air was saturated with something ancient and malevolent. But, as often happens, people chose to brush off such stories, dismissing them as mere superstitions and the ramblings of savages, refusing to believe in anything supernatural.

Time passed, the town was founded, and it was then that a cult emerged in Silent Hill. Its members called themselves the Order. The goal of the Order was both simple and insane. The first founder of the cult—a man who learned the true reason why these lands were considered cursed—heard an ancient legend about a deity.

According to the legend, this being was meant to be reborn and create a new paradise on earth—a paradise purified through pain and suffering, capable of washing away the sins of humanity. Obsessed with this idea, he set a single goal for himself: to resurrect this god. Thus, the Order was founded, its mission being to give life to their god at any cost and create a perfect world.

With each passing year, the cult grew, accepting more and more followers, until nearly all of Silent Hill fell under its influence. But, as with any such cult, disagreements eventually arose.

Some interpreted the will of the god in one way, others differently, and in the end, the Order split. One of the breakaway factions founded its own city, entering into a pact with their god: they sacrificed their own children so that their settlement would prosper. Yet all of these people shared one common goal—to give life to their deity.

Years later, the so-called child appeared, the one destined to become the vessel for the birth of their god. It was a girl unlike the others, possessing strange and frightening abilities. Because of her nature, Alessa was constantly subjected to bullying by her peers during childhood.

Her life could only be described as the existence of a depressed, misunderstood, broken girl who endured torture, cruelty, and loneliness. All she ever wanted was compassion and love.

Her mother, Dahlia Gillespie, was the head of the Order at that time. It was she who saw her own daughter as the perfect vessel for the birth of the god. Dahlia showed Alessa no love and did not protect her from violence or abuse, sincerely believing that only a broken soul could bring about the rebirth of a deity.

And when Dahlia decided that the moment had come, Alessa was offered as a sacrifice—chained and subjected to ritual burning alive so that the god could be born into this world.

But the ritual was interrupted. A passing truck driver, Travis Grady, noticed the fire and, without hesitation, rushed to help. Bursting into the burning house, he saw only a seven-year-old Alessa, chained and about to be burned alive.

Despite the fact that the chains restraining the girl were red-hot, Travis freed her and, enduring the pain, carried her out of the flames, then rushed to the hospital. Alessa’s skin was burned black, but she survived.

It was from this moment—when the ritual did not go as the Order had planned—that something else was created. Alessa did not give birth to their god, who was meant to bring paradise. Instead, she became the embodiment of punishment.

The dark part of her soul awakened, and driven by a thirst for revenge, Dark Alessa turned Silent Hill into a trap for all members of the Order. At the same time, she understood that it was not she who trapped people in the city—Silent Hill itself allowed her to do so, for it had never truly belonged to anyone.

So that at least part of her soul could live a normal life, Alessa separated her light side from herself. The light part was given a chance at childhood and hope, while Alessa herself continued, again and again, to unleash nightmares upon the residents of Silent Hill. After all, the city itself feeds on people’s negative emotions, laying bare their fears, sins, and regrets, turning them into monsters.

Silent Hill can both help a person cope with inner pain and punish them forever by plunging them into a personal nightmare. It grants liberation through suffering—one only needs to accept their sin and take a step forward. But few managed to do so, and thus most became eternal prisoners of Silent Hill.

And now Alex had found himself in this city. He had seen Silent Hill many times even before becoming the Demon King and the embodiment of the concept of destruction. Beside him was Heather—a girl who was the light side of Alessa’s soul, the part that had not yet lost hope. They had only recently arrived in Silent Hill and were now in the eastern part of the South Vale district, where their journey in search of answers began.

Heather wanted to save her father from the hands of the Order, whose true goals she did not yet know. Alex, however, pursued a different objective—to save Alessa and give the poor girl what she had never had: a loving family and a childhood.

And, of course, to punish all members of the Order by sending them to their own Hell, where they would again and again become prey for beings that were the embodiment of nightmares—the very monsters that live in closets and under beds.

Alex внимательно studied the part of the Silent Hill map that Heather had found, quickly running possible routes through his mind. He already knew where they needed to go and what had to be done—the only thing left was to optimize the path in order to visit all the key locations where the so-called “memories of Alessa” remained.

These nodes had to be erased one by one so that Alessa could finally begin a new life. At the same time, Alex did not forget about another task—the search for the missing Bureau of Control agents. They could have been scattered across different parts of Silent Hill or even thrown into other spaces connected to the city. All of this meant only one thing: there was a lot of work ahead.

Rubbing his chin, Alex came to the conclusion that they should start with the central part of Silent Hill. Getting there would not be easy—the city loved to confuse roads, and there were no direct paths here.

“Alright, it’s time to move on. First we’ll reach the central part of the city, and from there we’ll continue,” Alex said, folding the map and slipping it into his coat pocket.

“Are you sure that’s where we should go? Shouldn’t we be looking for the members of the Order?” Heather asked, looking at him doubtfully.

“They’ll find us themselves. And I know how to ask questions in a way that people answer them,” Alex replied calmly. “So let’s go, Cheryl. Follow me and don’t lag behind. Cities like this love to split groups.”

Heather simply nodded and followed Alex. The only thing that brought her even a bit of relief was the confidence that Alex understood what he was doing and where they should begin. They walked along a road surrounded by dense fog, so thick that nothing could be seen beyond two meters.

From time to time, old rust-covered streetlights and the facades of dilapidated houses emerged from the pale haze. Their windows were filled with heavy darkness, and curtains barely stirred in the half-open frames.

Alex внимательно peered into the windows, allowing for the possibility that some of Silent Hill’s residents might still be hiding inside. But they were met only by emptiness, rust, and dead walls.

Heather stayed as close to him as possible. Even though she couldn’t fully explain her feelings, anxiety grew inside her—the city pressed down on her, as if slowly closing in from all sides.

After going a little farther, they reached the only intersection on their path.

“Agent, look,” Heather said, pointing at the ground.

“Just call me Alex… and it looks like we’ve found a trail,” he replied, looking where she was pointing.

Smeared traces of blood were visible on the asphalt. Alex crouched down, carefully examining them. The splatter looked as if someone had been attacked suddenly. Judging by the pattern of the stains, the victim had managed to fight back—the blood stretched in an uneven trail, as though a wounded person had tried to crawl away or stagger off, losing strength. A second bloody trail led in a different direction, and Alex assumed that the attacker had either been wounded or killed—at least, that was what the injured person might have believed.

He lit a cigarette, thoughtfully tapping his finger against his chin. Heather stood behind him, cautiously peering over his shoulder, trying to understand what exactly he was seeing. Alex noticed two empty pistol casings on the ground, picked them up, and rolled them between his fingers. He already understood that not all of the missing agents had been thrown into Walter Sullivan’s personal nightmare. Most likely, they had been scattered across different parts of Silent Hill.

“Whose blood is this?” Heather asked quietly.

“Two Bureau agent teams went missing a couple of days ago. Judging by the casings, this blood belongs to one of them,” Alex replied, exhaling smoke and rising to his feet. “We need to check where the trail leads.”

“But what could have injured him? There’s so much blood here… it’s like a massacre,” Heather said, fear creeping into her voice.

“That’s what we’re going to find out. At the very least, I hope the agent is still alive,” Alex said, shaking his head slightly. “Alright, Cheryl. The trail goes to the right.”

Heather could only nod and follow Alex. She understood that there was no point in rushing him now or insisting that they save her father as soon as possible. She herself didn’t know exactly where they needed to go or where to begin. And beside Alex, she had a persistent feeling that the answers would be found—sooner or later, but they would be found.

They followed the bloodstains and soon came out onto a street lined with old, abandoned houses on both sides of the road. Only the occasional dark red spots on the asphalt served as their guide in this fog-shrouded city. Alex would have liked to examine the area more thoroughly, but if the wounded Bureau agent truly needed help, he wasn’t about to waste time inspecting Silent Hill’s local “sights.”

Heather walked almost shoulder to shoulder with Alex, occasionally casting glances at the eerie houses stretching along the road. Their doors and windows were boarded up, as if someone had desperately tried to keep outsiders from getting in.

An oppressive silence hung over the area, broken only by the sound of their footsteps on the wet road and the occasional gust of wind. Alex also scanned the surroundings, noting abandoned shops and buildings with boarded-up display windows and heavy metal grates.

Soon they reached another intersection. Ahead, the road was completely blocked by a tall wall of construction scaffolding covered with white fabric—an unmistakable hint that there was no way forward. The entire street was cut off, and the sight made Alex smile faintly. If he wanted to, he could have gone through there anyway, but for now he saw no point in it.

“Is it supposed to be like this? Or is it just me, and that wall looks… strange?” Heather asked cautiously, pointing at the barrier.

“Everything here is strange. And you’ll see a lot more of it,” Alex replied, narrowing his eyes as he tried to make out movement in the fog.

“Like the monsters I saw in my dreams? Or something worse?” Heather looked away from the wall and at him.

“Monsters are just one part of all the madness that’s happening in this city,” Alex nodded.

“I see… Look, there’s something in the fog,” Heather said, pointing ahead.

Alex immediately turned his head and spotted a staggering silhouette in the pale fog. He looked at Heather and pressed a finger to his lips, signaling that they needed to move quietly. Heather silently nodded. Then they cautiously moved forward, trying not to make a sound.

A few steps later, they saw more bloodstains stretching down the road, along with scattered pistol casings. Alex immediately realized that the Bureau operative had been firing back. But what concerned him even more was something else: aside from these blood trails, there were no other signs of injury or a dragged body.

Just a single bloody trail and casings next to it. Alex clearly understood what this could mean and motioned for Heather to follow him. She became even more vigilant, scanning their surroundings.

As they moved forward, Alex kept spotting new casings—like breadcrumbs left on the road, marking the way. The oppressive silence still hung around them, broken only by their footsteps and the rustle of the wind. Soon, the bloody trail turned into a narrow alley between two buildings. Alex noticed blood-stained bandages and an empty pistol magazine on the steps of one of them.

Having confirmed that the blood belonged to a Bureau agent, Alex turned to Heather. She was already peering into the alley, grimacing at what she saw. Alex stepped closer and looked inside himself. The alley walls were smeared with dried blood, and handprints were clearly visible on the bricks, coated in it. At the very end lay an empty assault magazine and a scatter of casings.

“So much blood… and not a single body,” Heather whispered, pressing close to Alex.

“The foggy city in all its glory,” he replied, shaking his head and stepping forward.

“Shouldn’t you be worried about your colleague’s life?” Heather called out as Alex entered the alley. “Why are you so calm, knowing something terrible could have happened to him?”

Alex stopped and looked her straight in the eyes.

“Cheryl, this is our job. He knew what he was getting into. This line of work rarely ends with a peaceful old age and dying in your bed with a smile on your face. You either become prey for the next monster, or you break from the inside. Our task is to go where no one else will, and do what no one else wants to do. If not us—then who? And my worrying won’t save him.”

Heather didn’t know how to respond and could only nod grimly. She understood that she wasn’t the one to question this line of work—let alone judge it or demand explanations. All she could do was appear subdued by his words and cold certainty.

Noticing her state, Alex quietly sighed, stepped closer, and gently ruffled Heather’s hair, trying to calm her. There was no condescension or pity in his gesture—only an attempt to restore a sense of safety. Then he stepped into the alley first, and Heather cautiously followed, trying not to step in the mixture of mud and blood.

They passed through the alley and emerged into a small abandoned courtyard behind an old building. Alex immediately noticed a bloody smear on the fence—someone, bleeding, had braced themselves against it to avoid falling. The thought was obvious: the agent had confronted his nightmares, which Silent Hill eagerly manifested into flesh and bone.

Looking around, Heather noticed footprints in the damp earth and tugged Alex by the sleeve, pointing at them. He nodded, and together they followed the trail. The footprints led them through a gap in the fence into the next courtyard—where another bloody trail continued, leading to a single door.

Just in case, Alex pulled a fire axe from his backpack and carefully cracked the door open. After making sure there was no immediate threat, he stepped first into the narrow passage leading to a row of garages. On the alley wall, a smeared bloodstain darkened the surface. Soon they reached the garages, and the only bloody trail led to a hole in one of the gates.

Heather crouched nearby and shone her flashlight inside. She saw blood, torn bandages, and another breach in the wall.

“He definitely crawled through here. The blood and torn bandage are on the other side,” she said, looking up at Alex.

“Then step back,” Alex replied calmly as he approached the gate. “I’m not crawling through the hole.”

Heather stood and moved aside, watching. Alex grabbed the bottom edge of the gate and yanked sharply upward. The mechanism, long rotted and rusted, gave way—the gate crashed with a loud crack. Heather didn’t say a word and slipped inside the garage immediately.

After making sure she had gone in, Alex followed and released the gate. It slammed down with a crash, completely blocking the way back. He cast a quick glance at the rubble and just shrugged—he had no intention of going back.

Heather was already shining her flashlight on the gap in the garage wall that led inside the house. Alex walked over, patted her on the shoulder, set down his backpack, and slipped first through the opening. Behind the wall was an old, abandoned room covered in thick dust and mold. Surveying the space, Alex noticed fresh bloodstains on the wall, leading further.

“Cheryl, your turn. It’s safe here,” he said, turning to her.

Heather, still in the garage, heard his voice, gripped the flashlight tighter, and began squeezing through after him. Seeing Alex’s outstretched hand, she grabbed it and quickly pulled herself inside. The room hit her nose with the smell of dampness and decay. Alex gestured to move quietly, and she nodded silently.

He drew Ivory from its holster and carefully cracked the next door open. Alex was watching not just for threats but also for Heather’s state of mind. He knew that if her emotions wavered and she fell into darkness, the city would try again to make her a vessel. As long as her mind stayed stable, she still had a chance to sever her connection to Silent Hill and leave for good.

He could have done it himself—one strike with Yamato could cut her off from the city. But Alex knew that even then, Heather would return for her father and fall into the trap again. So he chose another path—keeping her close, protecting her, and letting her see the truth. To understand what Alessa went through and what she sacrificed so that Heather could live a normal life.

Alex pushed the door open. Behind it was a kitchen.

Inside was chaos: a tossed first aid kit, bloody bandages, empty bottles of medical alcohol, bloodstains under an overturned chair. It was clear—the injured agent had grabbed anything that could help treat his wounds.

“He was definitely here,” Heather said, inspecting the mess.

“Thanks for the obvious deduction, Miss Sherlock,” Alex replied dryly. “What worries me more is that he didn’t hide—he moved on.”

“I’m just saying your colleague was here,” Heather said defensively. “No need to be sarcastic. Maybe he’s still hiding somewhere in this house?”

Alex gave a faint smile and decided to check the house anyway. Holding Ivory, he cautiously opened the door and stepped into the hallway. Almost immediately, a strange, irritating static noise came from somewhere ahead, like radio interference slicing through the air. Heather followed Alex and heard it too. She was about to say something, but Alex raised a finger to his lips, making it clear—they needed to stay silent.

He already knew the reason for that noise and understood perfectly what it meant. Motioning Heather to follow, Alex moved toward the source of the interference. The sound was coming from a side room. Approaching the door, Alex pushed it open sharply and immediately peered inside, gun sweeping the area in case a monster was hiding behind it.

The room was empty… almost. Alex’s gaze immediately fell on the body of a Bureau Control agent sitting against the wall. His head was bowed, and in one hand he still clutched his pistol. The most disturbing part was the dried blood streaks running along the wall beside him. There was no doubt—the agent had shot himself in the head.

Heather peeked into the room behind Alex and, seeing the dead agent, immediately covered her mouth with her hand. She shuddered and turned away, unable to look further. Alex, however, closed his eyes for a moment and slowly lit a cigarette. The static noise continued—coming from the radio transmitter the agent held in his other hand.

Alex understood perfectly that this man had clung to hope until the very last moment. To the belief that help would come, that he would make it out. But in the end, despair had won. Alex approached the body and crouched in front of it.

“What did you see, Franklin, that made you do this…” he said quietly. “You only had to wait a little longer. But at least you left this city on your own terms.”

His voice carried genuine sorrow.

Sighing, Alex turned off Franklin’s radio and began examining the body. He was looking not only for signs of injury but for any recording device—something that might show what the agent had managed to capture before dying. Heather stood silently behind him the entire time. By the expression on Alex’s face, she had once thought him cold and pragmatic, but now she realized that wasn’t entirely true.

She, of course, didn’t know that Alex’s decisions had ultimately led to Franklin ending up in Silent Hill and losing his life here. If Alex hadn’t hidden his powers and acted so cautiously, this might never have happened.

Finally, Alex found a recording device in the agent’s chest pocket. Pulling the flash drive from the device, he inserted it into his phone and began reviewing the footage. Skimming quickly, he found the moment when Franklin, Alvarez, and the others had been transported to the center of Silent Hill, followed by their separation, when the city scattered them to different locations.

Franklin had been closest to the city’s exit, but he still couldn’t escape. The footage showed a creature attacking him, resembling a dog with a split head, letting out piercing, inhuman screams.

It wounded him—exactly where Alex and Heather had found the first traces of blood. Fighting back, Franklin retreated, bleeding, and tried to hide. Alex watched the footage of his encounters with the monsters until he reached this house.

While Alex focused on the video, Heather scanned the surroundings. At one point, she heard a suspicious noise from the other side of the ruined wall with the huge hole. She cautiously stepped forward and saw something moving on the other side, writhing as if trying to rise. Heather immediately realized—it was a monster.

She began frantically tapping Alex on the shoulder, watching as the creature, covered in what looked like skin, rose to its feet and staggered toward them. Just as Heather was about to scream, Alex, without turning his head, aimed his gun and fired.

The bullet hit the monster squarely in the head. It flew backward, fell onto its back, and let out a piercing scream before going silent. Alex, his expression unchanged, holstered his gun and finished watching the recording.

After seeing and hearing everything Franklin had said before his death, Alex let out a heavy sigh. He lit another cigarette, then removed the spare magazines from Franklin’s vest and took his pistol.

“Here. Just in case,” Alex said, handing the weapon and ammunition to Heather. “I hope you know how to shoot?”

“I do,” she nodded. “Dad taught me.”

“Good to hear Harry took care of that,” Alex said with a faint smile. “We need to keep moving. We’re nowhere near our goal yet.”

Heather just smirked and stashed the magazines in the pocket of her vest. Noticing her expression, Alex gave a small smile and, without hesitation, ruffled her hair—even though she was already eighteen. Removing his hand, he approached the dead monster and crouched to inspect it more closely.

As Alex had expected, the monsters of Silent Hill were truly disgusting: their appearance was not just unpleasant, but genuinely horrifying. He caught himself thinking that if Heather weren’t there, he wouldn’t hesitate to cut the creature open to see what was inside.

The thought immediately reminded him of Wednesday, who was with the other girls back at Shepherds Glen. Alex was certain—Wednesday would never pass up a chance to look inside the “inner workings” of such creatures, quite literally. Strangely enough, he had no doubt about it.

Heather stood behind Alex, cautiously eyeing the monster. She had seen such creatures in her nightmares and even encountered them in the mall while fleeing. But back then, she had no desire to stop and examine them—her only thought had been how to run and survive.

“Listen, Alex…” she began hesitantly. “Do you know why these monsters are so… wrong and terrifying? This one looks like it’s just been… wrapped in skin,” Heather said, pointing to the body Alex was inspecting.

Alex turned his head toward her.

“The city itself turns your experiences, fears, and subconscious thoughts into living monsters. You could say Silent Hill is a true hell, where sins take the form of the creatures that fill the streets. This city isn’t called cursed for nothing. Once you’re here, you either atone for your sins, or you stay forever,” he said calmly.

Heather thought for a moment.

“So these monsters… are the offspring of the sins of the Order’s members, trapped in this city?” she asked quietly.

“Yes and no,” Alex shrugged, rising from his crouch. “Some of them are linked to the Order, some to the people the city itself brought here. Like I said, the Order doesn’t rule Silent Hill. They’ve just trapped themselves in a cage of their own madness and so-called faith in their god.”

Heather looked at him more intently.

“How do you know so much about this city… and the Order?” she asked, wanting more answers.

“Because I’m part of the Order myself…” Alex began.

The moment he said that word, Heather immediately leveled her gun at him and started backing away. Alex just rolled his eyes. Seeing her reaction, he shook his head again, once more convinced that no one ever listens all the way through. Heather continued to retreat until her back pressed against the wall, still keeping the weapon raised.

“Don’t come any closer!” she shouted, aiming at Alex.

“Sherrill, I’m not talking about that Order,” he replied wearily. “I’m talking about the order that collects knowledge, legends, and things like that. We call ourselves the Men of Letters. The essence of our work is to preserve knowledge and prevent it from being misused,” Alex said in a calm, steady tone.

“Why should I believe you?!” Heather asked, still keeping him in her sights.

“Because I want to kill those idiots myself,” Alex replied, lighting a cigarette. “Do you even understand how much crap they’ve caused? Everything happening here right now is their fault. And if I wanted to do something to you, I would have done it already. I wouldn’t be babysitting you or explaining anything. I’d just knock you out and take you where you need to go.”

Heather looked into Alex’s eyes and saw that he wasn’t lying. After a few seconds, she lowered her gun, though she remained cautious. Alex didn’t comment on her action, fully understanding the reason for her reaction. Exhaling a stream of cigarette smoke, he waved for Heather to follow and moved forward.

Entering the next room, Alex once again saw an opening in the wall and struggled to hide his irritation, knowing he would have to climb through similar holes many more times. Waiting for Heather, who now kept her distance, he took off his backpack and went through the opening first, then turned and nodded at her.

Heather cautiously followed, keeping her gun raised and her eyes on Alex. He kicked out a window to get outside, and once there, quickly surveyed the area. He was about to tell Heather to hurry when the radio taken from Franklin’s body suddenly crackled to life.

“Frens… Fr… do you copy… This… Collins… do you copy…” a male voice came through, distorted by static.

“Collins, do you copy? This is Voldigoad. Over. Where are you?” Alex responded.

“We… got scattered… I… school… Midwich…” Collins’ voice came through, then the connection was lost in static again.

“Collins, do you copy! Collins!” Alex shouted louder, trying to get a signal.

He tried calling Collins a few more times, but all he got in response was heavy static. All he could do was click his tongue in frustration, mentally cursing the Bureau of Control for never upgrading their equipment for places like this. By that time, Heather had climbed out the window and stood silently behind him, watching as Alex struggled in vain to reach the other agent.

Finally, he exhaled loudly, pocketed the radio, and realized they had no other choice—they needed to head to Midwich Elementary School. That was the school Alessa had once attended, the place where she had been bullied by classmates, and it was likely the location that could provide the answers they were seeking.

“We need to go to the school. I think we’ll find answers there—for your questions and mine,” Alex said, turning to Heather, who looked deep in thought.

“Midwich…” she whispered. “Why do I feel like I know this place? As if I’ve been there before…” Heather looked up at Alex, a flicker of worry in her eyes.

“Maybe you really have been there. You just don’t remember,” he replied calmly. “Or maybe that’s where something will come back to you. Alright, let’s go. We need to hurry,” Alex added, giving a short nod.

Heather could only nod absentmindedly in response. The moment she heard the name of the school, a sharp, pulsating pain flared in her head. Along with it, blurry, fragmented memories began to surface—memories that refused to form a coherent picture.

It felt as if she had truly attended that school, as if she had walked its hallways, yet her mind immediately rejected the thought—Heather knew with certainty that she had never been to Midwich. The harder she tried to focus on these images, the more intense the headache became, until her legs wobbled and she nearly collapsed.

Before that could happen, Alex caught her. He held Heather firmly, keeping her from losing her balance, carefully watching her wince in pain.

“Hey, Sherrill, you okay?” he asked, helping her stay upright.

“I… I’m fine,” Heather managed with difficulty. “It’s just my head… and my memories… they feel… wrong.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Alex calmly asked, not letting go of her.

“It’s like I went to Midwich…” she said, looking up at him. “But I know for sure I’ve never been there.”

“That’s what we’ll figure out once we get to the school,” Alex replied. “For now, try not to think about it. And if you can’t walk, I can carry you.”

“No… thank you,” Heather said, cautiously stepping back. “I feel better already.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, assessing her condition.

“Yes. I’m fine. This happens sometimes when I try to remember my dreams. It’ll pass soon,” Heather said confidently, trying to convince not only Alex but herself as well.

Alex gave her a careful look and simply nodded, then moved forward. Heather let out a deep breath, feeling the lingering weight in her head, and followed him. Passing through the wooden gate, they emerged into a narrow alley behind the houses.

On both sides stretched closed garages and abandoned cars, rust-covered. The fog here was especially thick, making it nearly impossible to see what lay ahead, so Alex walked first, with Heather keeping close behind him.

Despite the recent conversation and Alex’s admission that he also belonged to a secret Order, Heather had time to think. His knowledge, confidence, and calmness now formed a complete picture—if this Order truly collected and preserved knowledge, much of the situation became clearer.

And Alex’s words about not being obligated to babysit her only reinforced her thoughts: if he wanted to harm her, he would have done it long ago. Gradually, Heather began to regain the trust she had lost, understanding that as long as Alex was by her side, she was not alone in this foggy city.

To be continued…

(So, here’s the first tragedy in Silent Hill, and there will be many more along the way. Yes, Silent Hill isn’t a town of joy and magical ponies; it’s a town of despair and pain. As I already said, there will be crossroads in some locations, between Alex, Dean, Sam, and the Girls. This will be just Alex and Heather’s storyline, and then, after the end, I plan to show the other two stories.)

Early access to chapters on my patreon: p*treon.com/GreedHunter

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep