Ring around the Craven. Whispers in the hall, Guests checked in together… But none checked out at all. A storm. A wrong turn. A hotel glowing like a safe haven in the dark. But the Craven was anything but safe. Its elegant halls hid a Ringmaster who knew my secrets, a Mime who never spoke, and a stage where guilt was the script. The couple who checked in before me were already bound for slaughter. And me? I was cast as the star. At the Craven Hotel, every guest performed. And every performance ended in blood.