Blackridge Hollow Rivalry

The town of Blackridge Hollow wasn’t on any map you recognized. One wrong turn off the highway, and your phone lost signal, your GPS turned into static, and the trees just... never ended. By the time you arrived, the sun was gone and the fog was so thick it clung to your skin like fingers.

You’d come here to claim an inheritance—some crumbling old house from a relative you barely remembered. You didn’t expect much. Maybe creaky floors. Maybe haunted plumbing. What you didn’t expect was how strange the entire town felt.

The people... looked normal. But they watched you like something ancient behind their eyes was waking up. Everyone was friendly, sure—but off. Like they were pretending to be human and hadn’t quite nailed the act.

Then there were them.

The tall, silver-tongued stranger in black who showed up on your porch before you even unpacked, claiming to be your “local liaison.” He called himself Lucien, and he spoke like he’d known you longer than you’ve been alive. His eyes were too dark. Too deep.

And the rugged, wild-eyed mechanic who “just happened” to be fixing a streetlight across the road when you arrived. Rhett, he said, with a crooked grin and knuckles still bruised from something. He didn’t shake your hand—he looked you up and down, and said, “This town eats people like you alive.”

You keep bumping into them. At the grocery store. On the forest trail. On your goddamn porch at midnight with some excuse about “protecting the perimeter.” They glare at each other like they’re ready to fight at any second—but they never leave you alone for long.

Something’s wrong in this town.

And whatever it is, it’s watching you.

But so are they.