The fog was thicker now, curling around Lilith as she left the library behind, its heavy embrace pressing against her skin. Each breath she took felt cold, damp, and suffocating, as if the town itself was conspiring to weigh her down, to keep her from thinking clearly. The encounter with the mysterious woman lingered in her mind like a dark stain—her cryptic warning, her sunken eyes, the unspoken threat hanging in the air. Not everyone in the town is what they seem.

Lilith knew she needed answers, but where could she even begin? Everything about Hollow Creek felt like a half-forgotten nightmare, the edges blurry and disjointed, but she knew one thing for certain: the town held secrets, deep and twisted, and she was right at the center of them. She had been drawn back here for a reason, and if she didn’t find out why, the pact—this curse—would consume her.

The fog swirled around her as she walked, the sound of her boots against the cobblestone streets muffled. The streets of Hollow Creek were eerily empty, the town silent except for the occasional creak of wood or the distant cry of an animal hidden somewhere in the mist. The pale glow from the streetlights did little to penetrate the gloom, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch and twist in ways that defied logic.

She pulled her coat tighter, her mind racing with questions she had no answers to. Her mother had always been evasive about their family’s history, dropping hints and warnings without ever explaining the full truth. Lilith had always assumed it was superstition, nothing more than old wives' tales, but now she knew better. The mark on her door, the black envelope, the invitation—this was no coincidence. Her return to Hollow Creek had triggered something, a chain of events set in motion long before she was even born.

The Carvers had made a pact, a dangerous, ancient deal, and now it was time for the debt to be paid. But why her? Why now?

She had no idea who the woman in the library was or how she knew so much about the pact. Her words had been both a warning and a threat, and the way she had vanished into the shadows, as if she was part of them, sent a shiver down Lilith’s spine. The longer she stayed in Hollow Creek, the more it felt like the town itself was alive, watching her, pulling her deeper into its web.

Lilith had the urge to run, to leave Hollow Creek far behind and never look back. But the woman’s words echoed in her mind: The pact will follow you wherever you go.

There was no escaping it.

The fog seemed to thicken as she made her way through the maze of streets, her path leading her toward the outskirts of town. She didn’t dare return to the Carver mansion, not yet. The mark at her door had been a warning, a message that someone—or something—was waiting for her there. She wasn’t ready to confront whatever darkness was lurking inside her childhood home. Not without more answers.

There was only one person in Hollow Creek who might have those answers.

Margaret Thorne.

Lilith had heard her name whispered in hushed tones ever since she was a child. Margaret was a recluse, a woman who had lived on the outskirts of town for as long as anyone could remember. Some said she was a witch, others claimed she was mad, but Lilith’s mother had once sought her advice, slipping away under the cover of darkness when the family’s troubles grew too heavy to bear. Margaret had been a confidante, of sorts, but Lilith had never met her. Until now, she had no reason to.

But if there was anyone who knew the truth about Hollow Creek’s past, about the pact that had bound the Carver family to this cursed town, it was Margaret Thorne.

The streets gave way to narrow dirt paths as Lilith ventured farther from the heart of Hollow Creek. The fog thickened, turning the trees that lined the path into shadowy giants, their limbs twisting together overhead like skeletal fingers. The deeper she went, the quieter it became, until the only sound was the crunch of gravel beneath her feet. It was as though she had stepped out of time, into a place forgotten by the rest of the world.

Margaret’s cottage was hidden deep within the woods, just beyond the town’s borders. Lilith had only been this far out once before, as a child, when her curiosity had driven her to explore the edge of the forest. Her mother had warned her never to go too far, that the woods were dangerous, but now those warnings seemed to carry a new weight.

She could feel the forest pressing in on her, the trees shifting in the fog as if they were watching her. The path twisted and turned, narrowing until it was little more than a thin trail between the towering oaks. Lilith’s heart pounded in her chest, the cold air stinging her lungs with every breath.

As she walked, the shadows around her seemed to grow darker, more solid. The air itself felt heavier, charged with something unseen but undeniably present. Lilith’s instincts screamed at her to turn back, to run before it was too late, but she forced herself to keep going. Margaret was her only hope.

At last, the path opened up into a small clearing. There, nestled between the trees, was a crumbling stone cottage, its roof sagging under the weight of years of neglect. The windows were dark, the front door slightly ajar, as if someone had left in a hurry and never returned. Vines crept up the walls, twisting around the stone like veins, and the chimney, once tall and proud, now leaned precariously to one side.

Lilith hesitated at the edge of the clearing, her pulse quickening. Something wasn’t right. The cottage felt abandoned, forgotten. But Margaret was supposed to live here. Had something happened to her?

Pushing aside her unease, Lilith crossed the clearing and stepped onto the rickety porch. The wood groaned under her weight, and for a moment, she feared it might give way entirely. She reached for the door, the rough wood cool beneath her fingers, and pushed it open.

The door creaked loudly as it swung inward, revealing a small, dark room. The air inside was musty, thick with the smell of damp earth and decaying wood. A single candle burned on the mantel, its flame flickering weakly, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. The furniture was sparse—a worn armchair by the hearth, a small table covered in dusty books, and a few shelves lined with jars and vials of herbs and strange liquids.

But no sign of Margaret.

Lilith stepped inside, the floorboards creaking underfoot as she moved deeper into the room. The sense of unease that had been gnawing at her intensified. It wasn’t just the cottage that felt abandoned—it felt like something had been here recently. The air was too still, too quiet, as if waiting for something to break the silence.

Her gaze drifted to the table, where one of the books lay open, its pages yellowed and brittle with age. Strange symbols were scrawled across the parchment, symbols she didn’t recognize but that filled her with a deep, unsettling sense of familiarity. She reached out to touch the book, but before her fingers could brush the page, a voice cut through the silence.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

Lilith spun around, her heart leaping into her throat. Standing in the doorway was a woman, her figure silhouetted against the dim light from outside. Her long, gray hair fell in tangled waves around her shoulders, and her face, though lined with age, was sharp and piercing. Her eyes, dark and hollow, locked onto Lilith with an intensity that made her stomach churn.

Margaret Thorne.

“I didn’t mean to intrude,” Lilith said quickly, taking a step back from the table. “I just…I need your help.”

Margaret’s eyes narrowed, her gaze flicking to the open book on the table before returning to Lilith. “Help? You’ve already stepped too far into this, girl. There’s no help for you now.”

Lilith’s stomach twisted with a mix of fear and frustration. “You know who I am,” she said, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. “You know about the Carver family, the pact. I need to know how to break it.”

Margaret stepped into the room, her movements slow and deliberate, like a predator circling its prey. “Break it? You can’t break it. The pact was made long before you were born, before even your ancestors understood the price they would pay. It’s not something that can be undone.”

“There has to be a way,” Lilith pressed, her desperation rising. “The mark was placed on my house, I was invited to some gathering—someone is pulling the strings, and I need to know who.”

Margaret stopped in front of the hearth, her back to Lilith. For a long moment, she said nothing, the silence stretching out between them like a taut string ready to snap.

“Who?” Margaret repeated, her voice low. “You think it’s one person? This town, this place, it’s always been more than what you see on the surface. The pact your family made…it was with something far older, far darker than you could ever imagine.”

Lilith’s chest tightened. “But there has to be a way to stop it. There has to be a way to break free.”

Margaret turned to face her, her eyes cold and unforgiving. “There’s no freedom, child. The pact binds you to this town, to the darkness