On fleeing his cell, Philip’s fate is once again set in motion. Only one cast iron conclusion dared rear its head – escape. The screams from a nearby cell went no great way to answering my questions, but raised a few of their own. From the raw scratches across my back, I figured I’d been dragged to this make shift prison, but to what end? I was in a complex, some way beneath the Greenland snow, and had been attacked. The mattress beneath me was worse still, though the memory of the events that lead me there was the terrifying realisation of all. Penumbra: Black Plague… I woke in an old, concrete office room, damp with the smell of rot and death.