Brennisteinn Station, Svalbard. Five scientists. Four months of polar night. No way out until February.
The last plane has barely left the ice when Dr. Elin Marsh notices something small and wrong: the table is set for six.
No one will admit to laying the extra place. No one wants to sit in the empty chair. And in the station’s logbook, in ink that hasn’t dried, someone has been signing in every day since they arrived.
Outside, the dark is endless. Inside, the crew is no longer sure who is in the room with them.
Count the chairs before you eat.