The blood that drips down your chin is sickly sweet and metallic and oh so familiar. You're not sure you remember who it belongs to anymore. You have nothing in your skull, besides your name and a headache. But you are in danger.
Say your name aloud. You still have part of yourself.
The Dark Urge. Whatever that is. That is you. You will claw back the truth, but first you have to claw your way out of here