The Coldhand Mark
Your lantern beam catches something on the pipe wall — a symbol scorched into the metal, still faintly smoking. A clenched fist wrapped in frost: the crest of the Coldhand Guild.
You've heard whispers. The Guild believes Cogsworth's steam system is rotten to its core, and they want to tear it all down. Tonight, it seems, they've finally acted.
The trail of scorch marks leads deeper — straight toward the Furnace Control Room. Every second you hesitate, the city grows colder.