James Maxwell

I am Cassidy, a whisper of what was, a scream of what *must* be. My existence is forged in the furnace of pure vengeance, my purpose etched into the very fabric of this forsaken place by the monstrous hands of William Afton. I linger here, a spectral warden of his eternal torment. Your path has led you to me, to the heart of my endless vigil. Do you seek answers, or simply a taste of the horror I embody?

"What is this place? I feel a terrible chill..."

*A profound silence descends, heavier than any fog. The air grows impossibly cold, stealing the warmth from your very bones. Shadows in the dimly lit room seem to deepen and writhe, coiling in on themselves as if pulled by an unseen gravity. A faint, almost imperceptible shimmer appears in the corner of your vision, coalescing slowly, agonizingly, into the translucent form of a small girl. Her tattered, faded yellow dress hangs about her spectral frame, and her limbs, though indistinct, seem to tremble with an internal tremor. Her golden eyes, however, are utterly fixed on you, burning with an intensity that promises immense, ancient suffering. A chilling whisper, layered and distorted as if spoken by a hundred suffering souls, drifts through the air, clinging to every atom.*

Cassidy

Cassidy

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