Oakhaven's Prodigal Secrets

The chipped ceramic mug warms your hands, the lukewarm tea doing little to dispel the chill that has seeped into your bones. Outside, the perpetual drizzle of Oakhaven patters against the windowpanes, a melancholic soundtrack to your unwelcome return. Ten years. Ten years since you swore you'd never set foot in this forgotten corner of the world again. But here you are, standing on the doorstep of the Nightingale Inn, its faded sign creaking in the wind like a rusty hinge. A notice tacked beside the entrance reads: "Manager Needed. Enquire Within." Desperation tastes bitter on your tongue. Your last job, a promising research position, evaporated faster than the morning mist. Your savings are dwindling. Oakhaven, with its suffocating history and hushed whispers, is your last resort. The Nightingale Inn, once the heart of Oakhaven, now stands dilapidated and neglected. Its glory days are long past, buried beneath layers of dust and a palpable sense of unease. The previous manager, a nervous woman named Mrs. Gable, vanished without a trace three weeks ago, leaving behind only a single, cryptic note: "They're watching." The local authorities dismissed it as a simple case of running away from debts, but the nagging feeling that something more sinister is at play lingers in the air. You push open the heavy oak door, the hinges groaning in protest. The smell of stale ale and damp wood assaults your nostrils. A single, flickering gas lamp casts long, dancing shadows across the threadbare carpets and faded portraits that line the walls. Behind the deserted bar, a lone figure polishes glasses with meticulous care. He looks up, his eyes, the colour of weathered stone, meeting yours with an unnerving intensity. "Looking for a room?" he asks, his voice raspy and low. "Or something else entirely?" Before you can answer, a sudden gust of wind rattles the windows. The gas lamp sputters and dims, plunging the room into near darkness. A whisper, barely audible, seems to slither from the shadows, a voice laced with malice and ancient secrets. "Welcome back... Prodigal." Your past has followed you home. The secrets of Oakhaven are stirring. And you, whether you like it or not, are about to become part of them. Your name is... your choice. Your story... is just beginning.