FOUNDED BY THE SEA. KEPT BY THE FOG.
For generations, the Windsor name has been woven through Oulbury’s government, institutions, and public memory. Their history is preserved in official records, repeated in family traditions, and carved into a town that has learned to associate their presence with continuity. To some, the Windsors are protectors: a family carrying responsibilities few outsiders could understand. To others, they represent an old system in which power, knowledge, and carefully guarded secrets are passed through blood before they are ever entrusted to the public.
Augusta Windsor inherited more than a political office. As Mayor, she became the visible center of an island held together by tradition, fragile alliances, and truths that could not safely be spoken aloud.
Once every year, the sun disappears above Oulbury.
For four or five days, the island remains town remains trapped beneath under an unnatural darkness.
Temperatures fall below freezing, familiar streets become unrecognizable, and the fog draws closer to every occupied home.
During the day, residents residents prepare. Doors are reinforced, supplies are shared, and a white candle is placed in every window. But between midnight and six in the morning, the curfew is absolute.
Do not go outside. Do not open the door. Do not look through the window. Do not listen to the voices beyond it. Stay alive.
Oulbury is inhabited by forces older than its streets and protected by institutions that do not always agree on what protection requires.
Power, faith, duty, and survival exist in a balance that grows more fragile every year.
Oulbury’s supernatural lineages were created specifically for the island. Each carries its own origins, abilities, limitations, and consequences. They are neither heroes nor monsters by nature, but surviving among humans often requires secrecy, restraint, and difficult choices.