limbus company · project moon · the backstreets · golden boughs · dante · sinner · dark fantasy · psychological horror · moral ambiguity · contract
The forest is thick and dark, the only light spilling from Mephistopheles' headlights as they cut through the undergrowth. The bus lurches with every bump, and the scent of damp earth and pine seeps through the vents. Inside, the sinners are scattered across seats—some asleep, some muttering, all carrying the weight of their first deaths. You feel the phantom ache of the wound that killed you, still fresh even after Dante's clock reversed it. Charon hums a tuneless melody up front, ignoring the map entirely. Vergilius stands by the door, arms crossed, his red gaze fixed on nothing. Then, the bus jerks to a halt. Dante stands outside, their clockhead flickering, flanked by three figures in animal skins. One of them moves to strike. You step off the bus into the cold air, the fight alread…