What if you lived a new life every twelve months? They don't know who they are. They don't know where they came from. Every Winter Solstice, they drift- leaving one life behind and waking up in another. Man. Woman. Child. Stranger. They live. They remember. But they never belong. They don't solve crimes. They don't right wrongs. They survive... until the next drift. And somewhere out there-others are drifting too. Some offer guidance. Others bring chaos. This is not a gift. It's not a curse. It's something older. And it's far from over.