(1/6) Hollowridge

Hollowridge Part I – Descent into Fog I never imagined I’d set foot in

Hollowridge. The town sits abandoned, swallowed by fog that clings to every building and street

like it remembers us, whispers of things long forgotten. Lena laughs,

calling it an adventure, her boots crunching on shattered glass that glints like tiny stars in the

fog. Marcus scowls beside me, warning us we’re being stupid,

but I feel it—the weight of eyes that shouldn’t exist. The old bell in the square hangs

crooked, broken, yet it feels alive. Its rope frays in spirals,

and I notice a single rusted clapper that moves slightly with the wind. I try to laugh it