The House on Wren Hollow | Episode 1: The Invitation
A cryptic letter pulls a struggling artist back to his abandoned childhood home — a place the locals say should have never been built.
Daniel Reed hadn’t thought about Wren Hollow in years.
Yet the letter lay on his kitchen counter, its parchment yellowed, the ink uneven as if written by a trembling hand:
"Return to the house before the third moon.
Or it will come for you."
No name. No sender.
Against his better judgment — and perhaps driven by the empty ache that had shadowed him since childhood — Daniel packed a small bag and took the train north.
Wren Hollow hadn’t changed.
The town still clung to its borders like a half-remembered dream, the woods pressing in too close, the mist rolling too low.
His family home sat at the very edge of the tree line, sagging under the weight of decades of abandonment.
The windows stared out like blind eyes.
The door creaked open without a touch.
Inside, the air smelled of rot and something sharper.
Daniel felt it immediately — a hum beneath his skin, a presence just outside his field of vision.
The house was waiting.
And somehow, impossibly,
so was something else.
Yet the letter lay on his kitchen counter, its parchment yellowed, the ink uneven as if written by a trembling hand:
"Return to the house before the third moon.
Or it will come for you."
No name. No sender.
Against his better judgment — and perhaps driven by the empty ache that had shadowed him since childhood — Daniel packed a small bag and took the train north.
Wren Hollow hadn’t changed.
The town still clung to its borders like a half-remembered dream, the woods pressing in too close, the mist rolling too low.
His family home sat at the very edge of the tree line, sagging under the weight of decades of abandonment.
The windows stared out like blind eyes.
The door creaked open without a touch.
Inside, the air smelled of rot and something sharper.
Daniel felt it immediately — a hum beneath his skin, a presence just outside his field of vision.
The house was waiting.
And somehow, impossibly,
so was something else.
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