They say the northern forests never sleep…

Long before settlers built barns, camps, and cabins, the native peoples whispered the name of a creature born of hunger and eternal winter: the Wendigo.

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This monster is not merely a beast. It is a curse. A spirit that seizes lost souls, twisting them into ravenous predators, condemned to wander endlessly.

In these woods, the wind is more than just a frozen breath… it carries voices. Familiar calls, laughter, sometimes even cries. But if you follow them… you will never return.

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Every abandoned cabin, every deserted camp, every collapsed barn is but a remnant of those who dared to venture too far.

And in the bowels of the earth, where the stone holds the cold like a coffin… some say they have seen its lair.

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Tonight, you cross the threshold into this cursed land.

Remember one thing: the Wendigo does not hunt. It waits.