Whispers In The Dark REMASTERED ; A New Survivor Enters The Realm, "Eve" Evelyn Reed
Alright guys, so about last year, I published a chapter from my old account, P0rshulz and I went over it and thought I should give it a remastering so we've got the new and improved Evelyn Reed everybody! Give me a few days to flesh out The Witch Doctor and I'll release him alongside Evelyn, and yes, I know it's short when compared to Thomas, I know, I know; I didn't put as much effort into her, I'm really wanting to get to the killer but until then, enjoy this new character in the mean time! (I'll make along the way, I'll make edits to her lore or give her cosmetics eventually.)
Whispers in The Dark
A New Survivor Enters The Realm
Name : “Eve” Evelyn Reed
Age : 27
Gender : Female
Lore:
Evelyn “Eve” Reed was born in the summer of 1988 in Bar Harbor, Maine, a coastal town with less than five thousand residents. It was the kind of town where doors were rarely locked, neighbors waved when they passed, and secrets rarely stayed secret. Eve’s life began with one tragedy: her mother, Carol, who died giving birth to her. Since the beginning, it was just her and her father, Jones J. Reed, a mechanic who ran Reed’s Auto Repair out of a squat building on the edge of town.
What could have been an emptiness in her life was filled with the bond between her and Jones. He raised her with rough hands that smelled of oil and grease, but also with a kind of gentleness only a single father could muster. They became inseparable, the girl and her father, each finding in the other what they lacked. He was her world; she, his reason to keep going.
Eve was never like the other kids. She was brilliant, yes, but her brilliance was wild. In class, when children scrawled out their multiplication tables, Eve doodled across her worksheets with spirals, creatures, entire landscapes born from her imagination. During recess, while others played tag, she crouched near the fence line, digging through the dirt in search of beetles and worms. Teachers called her a “wild child,” her father called her “curious,” but Eve knew better. Her creativity was an untamed thing, sharp at the edges, unpredictable.
As she grew, she never shed that wild streak. She stormed through junior high and high school with grades good enough to graduate early if she wanted, earning scholarships from universities across the country. But Eve didn’t want to be boxed in. She turned them down, opting instead for apprenticeships across Maine, immersing herself in different trades and learning from different people. By twenty-two, she returned to Bar Harbor, restless but certain of one thing: she wanted to write.
She landed a job at The Mount Desert Islander, a modest local newspaper, and quickly proved herself. Eve’s writing was raw, compelling. Her perspective, unflinching. She became known for digging deeper than others dared, asking questions that most ignored. Journalism, for her, was exploration without limits.
Meanwhile, Jones was aging. The years of crawling under cars and breathing exhaust caught up with him. He sold the shop, pocketing enough to retire comfortably in the old family home. Eve rented her own modest two-bedroom house not far from him. It wasn’t much, but it was hers that she shared with her mutt, Major Tom, who followed her everywhere. Life, for a while, seemed stable.
Then came the accident.
One evening, Eve was sent to cover a fatal crash on the outskirts of town. An elderly man and his dog had been killed instantly when their truck skidded off the road. As she gathered details, whispers rippled through the crowd of onlookers. Old wives’ tales resurfaced, talk of the Nurthulu, a cult that supposedly inhabited Bar Harbor centuries ago. Locals murmured about sacrifices, rituals, and an artifact; an obsidian mirror buried deep in the woods that could show truths not meant for mortal eyes.
Eve dismissed it outright. Folklore, she told herself. Every small town had its myths. Later, when she ranted to her father about the rumors, he only chuckled and admitted he’d heard the same stories when he was her age. “Just a tale,” he said. “Don’t lose sleep over it.”
But Eve couldn’t let it go. If the legend had lasted generations, maybe there was some truth in it.
And then the dreams began.
At first, they were fragmented flashes: a black mirror, robed figures chanting, the smell of smoke and blood. She woke confused, unsettled, brushing it off as stress. But as nights passed, the dreams grew clearer, more vivid. She saw the Nurthulu gather in secret, their voices low as they spoke of unlocking forbidden knowledge. She saw the mirror unveiled, its surface darker than night, reflecting not faces but things. Shapes, creatures, places not of this world. She saw the rituals that followed, blood spilled in sacrifice, chants rising to screams. And finally, she saw their undoing: the mirror cracking open like a wound, spilling shadows into their midst, slaughtering them in a frenzy of shrieks and torn flesh.
She woke drenched in sweat, her heart racing. These weren’t dreams. They were visions.
One night, she jolted awake at 12:48 AM, trembling. Instinctively, she called her father. No answer. She called again. Silence. Panic rose. She pulled on her coat and jeans, grabbed her keys, and drove through the silent streets.
She banged on his door. Nothing. Rang the bell until it choked. Finally, she kicked it in.
Inside, she found him on the floor, convulsing violently. “Dad!” she screamed, rushing to him, rolling him on his side, fumbling for the phone with shaking hands. Major Tom barked frantically as she dialed 911. Minutes stretched like hours before the paramedics arrived, pulling her away as they loaded him into the ambulance. She followed in the back of a cruiser, her hands clawing at her own knees.
At the hospital, she was forced to wait. Hours dragged by until finally a doctor emerged. His words shattered her. Jones was alive, but his brain was gone. Machines could keep him breathing, but his mind had slipped past the point of return.
Eve ran from the hospital into the night. Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled through the streets, her chest heaving, her heart breaking. For the first time, she felt utterly alone.
Her grief twisted into obsession. This wasn’t random. This was a sign. She had to find the mirror.
She prepared herself with her flashlight, coat, boots before she pushed into the woods. The night was silent, suffocating. Her beam of light from the flashlight ripped the night apart and cut through the trees as she searched for something, anything. An hour passed. Her hope waned. Then she tripped and fell. Beneath her palm was stone, carved with strange etchings.
The moment her fingers touched it, the visions returned. The tribe screaming. Their blood soaking the ground. Shadows ripping them apart. She gasped, jerking her hand back, but she knew. She was close.
She dug with frantic energy until her fingers closed around it. The mirror. Cold. Heavy. Wrong.
The fog came immediately, thick and choking, curling around her legs, her arms, her throat. Shapes emerged, the Nurthulu, their eyes hollow, their mouths stretched in eternal agony. They screamed, their bodies tearing apart before her, leaving only one figure standing. Hooded. Watching. She blinked, and it was gone.
The fog swallowed her.
She staggered forward, but every step led only deeper into the dark. The trees vanished. The stars vanished. Only endless black remained, broken by the whisper of voices she couldn’t understand.
Evelyn Reed has not been seen since.
Perks :
Veilwalker
When another survivor is put into the dying state, gain 3%/4%/5% haste for 6 seconds. If you are already in chase when this effect triggers, the duration is doubled.
“I swear that for a second, the world bends when I run, as if the mirror is pulling me through.” - Evelyn Reed
Echoes of The Fallen
When another survivor is healing, unhooking or cleansing within 8/10/12 meters of you, their action speed is increased by 6%/8%/10%. If you (are able to, i.e. healing) perform the same action alongside them, the bonus is doubled.
“Sometimes… When I run. I hear them. They don’t scream. But rather, they urge me to help them.” - Evelyn Reed
Through The Looking Glass
When in chase, your vaulting speed is increased by 10%/12%/15% and after vaulting a window, you lose scratch marks for the next, 4/5/6 seconds. Activates once every 40 seconds.
“ It’s as if I’m… slipping through the cracks of reality, it feels. Even if it’s only for a moment.” - Evelyn Reed