Ravens Hollow
The sun had barely kissed the horizon when the crows began to gather. Their cries echoed through the trees, a deep, unsettling call that seemed to shake the very air. Ravens Hollow, a place forgotten by most, lay at the edge of the world where the forest met the cliffs. It was a land of secrets, where the trees grew twisted and gnarled, as though the earth itself had been shaped by something ancient and dark.
No one ventured into Ravens Hollow willingly. Those who did were either lost, cursed, or never seen again. The locals in the nearby village spoke of it in whispers, their eyes darting nervously at the mention of its name. They said the Hollow was a place where the past never truly died, where the boundaries between the living and the dead were thinner than the veil of mist that clung to the ground at dusk.
Clara Blackwood had heard the stories, of course. As a child, she'd been warned to stay far from that place, but now, as an adult, she could no longer resist the pull. Her mother's sudden disappearance, the cryptic letters she had found hidden in the attic, and the eerie sense of being watched had all led her to the same conclusion: Ravens Hollow held the answers she sought. But what she would find there would not only unravel the mystery of her mother's vanishing, but also uncover a deeper, darker truth about the Hollow-and herself.
Tonight, the ravens would call again. Tonight, Clara would walk into Ravens Hollow, and there would be no turning back.
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