Story 917: The Hollow House

The cabin stood at the edge of a dying forest, its windows hollow and dark. The surrounding ground was littered with corpses, but they didn’t move like the other undead—they were torn apart, as if something had feasted on them.

Draven stepped forward, shotgun ready. “This place reeks of death.”

Mira shivered. “More than usual.”

Elias, gripping his revolver, eyed the open doorway, where the wind howled like a voice trapped in agony. “This is a bad idea.”

Draven ignored him and stepped inside.

The air inside was stifling, thick with rot and something worse—something ancient. Shadows slithered across the wooden walls, moving when they shouldn’t.

Then, a sound. A whisper.

Mira spun around. “Did you hear that?”

Draven didn’t answer. He was staring at the far corner of the room, where a girl sat, knees hugged to her chest. Her skin was ashen, her hair tangled. Chains clung to her wrists, but they were broken.

Mira swallowed. “The Forsaken Girl.”