Chapter One – The Road to Hollow’s End
The engine’s growl was Eden’s only company as the chopper tore down the rain-slick highway. A storm was breaking behind her, lightning carving jagged scars into the night sky. The bike’s headlamp cut a narrow path ahead, and the world beyond it was nothing but shadows.
Eden rode hard, faster than she should’ve, the weight of Trace’s message pressing on her chest like a stone. He wasn’t the type to spook easy. If he’d sent out a flare like that, it meant things had gone south quick.
She replayed the words over and over in her head.15Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXOklxNyJNh
Banshee. Hunters going missing. Something’s wrong.
Hunters disappearing wasn’t unheard of—this life was a death sentence with no expiration date—but vanishing? That was different. Hunters left corpses, blood, clues. They didn’t just blink out of existence.
Trace had been one of the few constants in Eden’s life since she’d taken up the road years back. He was older, sharper, with the kind of quiet authority that came from surviving long enough to see half your friends buried. He’d taught her more than a few tricks of the trade, patched her up more than once, and now—now he was gone.
The thought tightened her grip on the handlebars until her knuckles whitened.
She didn’t notice she was clenching her teeth until the road sign appeared through the fog:
Welcome to Hollow’s End. Population 2,017.
The sign looked older than the town itself, paint peeling, one corner rusted clean through. Beneath it, someone had scrawled a word in black spray paint.
LIARS.
Eden slowed just enough to take it in. Her gut churned. Every small town had its secrets, but this one was already bleeding them out on the roadside.
The Motel
The Hollow Pines Motel sat at the edge of town, a row of sagging cabins lit by a flickering neon “VACANCY” sign. The parking lot was nearly empty, save for a rusted pickup and a sedan with plates that didn’t match.
Eden killed the engine, the sudden silence ringing in her ears. She swung a leg off the bike, boots crunching gravel, and stretched out her stiff muscles before heading inside.
The front office smelled of dust and old coffee. Behind the counter sat a man in his sixties, thick glasses perched on his nose, watching a tiny TV that buzzed with static. He looked up only when Eden cleared her throat.
“One night,” she said, sliding a few bills across the counter.
The man studied her. His eyes lingered on her leather jacket, the shotgun case slung casually over her shoulder. Hunters could usually spot each other, but civilians? They just thought she looked like trouble.
“You here for the… fishing?” he asked, voice low, wary.
Eden tilted her head. “Fishing?”
“Folks come through, say they’re here to fish the lake,” the old man muttered, sliding a key across to her. His voice dropped even lower. “Ain’t no one been fishing lately. Not with the screams.”
Eden didn’t blink. “What screams?”
But the man just shook his head and turned back to his static-filled screen.
The Diner
By morning, the storm had blown over, leaving Hollow’s End in an uneasy quiet. Eden rode into the center of town, where the streets were lined with antique shops, a hardware store, and a diner that looked like it hadn’t been renovated since the ‘60s.
Inside, the smell of bacon and coffee hung heavy in the air. Locals filled the booths, whispering in clusters, their voices dropping the moment Eden walked in. She was used to it—hunters rarely blended in, no matter how hard they tried.
Sliding into a booth, she ordered black coffee and a plate of eggs she didn’t intend to eat. Instead, she let her eyes wander, ears tuned to the murmurs around her.
“…said he just dropped, face twisted up like he’d seen the devil himself…”
“…wasn’t the first either, not by a long shot…”
“…and his poor wife—”
Eden’s waitress appeared, a wiry woman in her forties with sharp eyes and a tired smile. She poured coffee into Eden’s cup and lowered her voice.
“You’re not from around here.”
“No,” Eden said, taking a slow sip. “Just passing through.”
The waitress glanced around before leaning closer. “Then keep passing. This town ain’t safe for strangers.”
Eden met her gaze evenly. “Why’s that?”
The woman hesitated, then whispered, “Men are dying. Cheating men. The kind who think they can have their fun and no one will know. They’re the ones ending up cold.”
Her hand shook slightly as she set the pot back on the table. “And the hunters—the ones who came to look into it—they’re gone too. Just… gone.”
Eden’s stomach tightened. “You know their names?”
The waitress bit her lip, then nodded. She rattled off three. Eden knew two of them. Both solid hunters. Both missing for weeks.
When Eden pressed for more, the woman’s eyes flicked nervously toward the window. “If you want answers, you won’t find them here. But… the woods. That’s where it started. The Hollow Woods. Folks hear her crying out there.”
Eden’s pulse quickened. The banshee.
Before she could ask more, the waitress straightened, her mask of small-town courtesy snapping back in place. “Enjoy your meal,” she said, louder this time, and walked off.
The Woods
By dusk, Eden was ready. The shotgun strapped to her back, iron rounds locked and loaded, silver blade at her hip. She parked the chopper just shy of the tree line, covering it with brush, and slipped into the forest.
The deeper she went, the thicker the fog became, curling low to the ground like it had a mind of its own. Branches clawed at her jacket, and the silence pressed heavy against her ears.
She found the first sign less than a mile in: a jacket. Torn, blood smeared, hanging neatly on a low branch.
Trace’s jacket.
Eden froze. Her throat went dry. He’d been here. Too close.
A whisper curled through the mist.
“Eden…”
Her heart lurched. She spun, shotgun raised.
The fog shifted, and for a moment—just a moment—she saw him. Trace. His face pale, his outline hazy, like smoke caught in moonlight.
“Run…” he whispered.
Then the banshee’s cry shattered the night.
End of Chapter One
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