Story 914: The Hollow Feast

Draven awoke to absolute darkness. His body felt weightless, suspended in something thick and cold. He couldn’t breathe. He tried to move, but unseen hands gripped his limbs, yanking him downward.

Then—a whisper.

"Do you know what fear tastes like?"

A sudden plunge sent Draven crashing onto solid ground. He gasped for air, his body slick with black sludge. Around him, the world twisted—a ruined banquet hall, its long table stretching into the shadows. Flickering chandeliers swayed overhead, dripping wax like melting flesh.

Mira and Elias were already there, coughing, disoriented.

A slow, deliberate clap echoed through the chamber.

At the head of the table sat The Hollow Man.

His gaunt figure leaned forward, the black void of his face shifting. The edges of his form flickered, as though reality refused to hold him in place.

"You survived the Forsaken Girl’s embrace," he mused. "Few do."

Draven staggered to his feet, shotgun aimed. "What is this place?"