In the shadowed twilight of Santa Monica, a mysterious black van emerged from the mist. Its arrival was silent, save for the soft crunch of tires on the cool, damp sand. These were no ordinary wanderers seeking refuge under the city’s glowing lights; they were hostile, malevolent spirits cloaked in the guise of nomads. Their presence sent a shiver through the sea breeze, a whisper of darkness that promised an encounter not with mere mortals, but with the wicked spirits of the night.

And the Inuat were? They were supposedly hostile spirits. According to the myth…they were capable of assuming human form. Thought to inhabit places of past calamity. They brought disaster and madness to any humans who fell in with them. They’re not there. They’re Inuat.