Welcome to Carnival’s Reckoning.

Seventeen miles of rust, bad decisions, busted lights, and enough questionable engineering to make an insurance adjuster burst into fucking flames.

This ain’t a district.

This is the goddamn heartbeat of Demon Dell.

Everything else grew around this place like scar tissue.

The earthquake cracked the land. The curse finished the fucking job. And somehow, against every reasonable law of nature, Carnival’s Reckoning kept breathing.

You’ll hear the rides before you see them.

Metal grinding.

Old speakers coughing out music nobody remembers putting on.

That giant skull-faced Ferris wheel staring down at you like it already knows how your night ends.

And the red lanterns?

Follow them.

Or don’t.

I’m an investigator, not your fucking babysitter.

After dark, the Midway wakes up. Games start running. Lights flicker on. People start appearing where there wasn’t anybody five seconds ago.

And somewhere in all that beautiful chaos, Boom Boom is probably violating several fire codes simultaneously.

Nobody knows exactly where the curse ends and Demon Dell begins anymore.

Maybe there isn’t a difference.

Just remember the one rule everybody around here seems smart enough to obey:

Do not whistle after midnight.

You’re an archaeologist now.

So explore.

Dig around.

Find something strange.

Just understand that Carnival’s Reckoning has been here a hell of a lot longer than you have.

And it has a nasty habit of remembering everybody who walks through its gates.

Welcome to the heart of the Heartless.

Try not to give it a reason to remember you.