The rain had been falling all day in Greyhollow. Not the kind of rain that came and went, but the kind that soaked into your bones and made the entire world feel quieter, heavier—like even the sky was grieving.
Elior Lockwood stood at the old mailbox at the end of his grandmother's driveway, umbrella shaking in the wind. He wasn't expecting anything. No one sent letters anymore. But nestled between soggy bills and flyers, there it was: a yellowed envelope, aged and brittle, sealed with a thick black wax stamp shaped like an eye.
There was no return address.
There was no sender name.
Just one word, written in uneven ink:
ELIOR.
He stared at it for a moment, unease creeping up his spine. The ink looked too fresh for such an old envelope. The paper smelled faintly of burnt roses.
He tore it open.
Inside was a letter—handwritten in beautiful cursive, with words that made his blood run cold.
---
> My Dearest Elior,
If you are reading this, then I am already dead.
But death is not the end. Not for me. Not for you.
There are things buried beneath Greyhollow—secrets that were never meant to surface. The town smiles in the sun, but it sleeps on bones, and whispers travel through the soil.
I know you've seen them. The shadows. The flickers in your dreams.
You must listen carefully:
On the 7th night after you read this, the grave will open.
And I will return.
Not all of me. Just enough.
Burn this letter if you wish to live as you always have.
Or come find me.
—L.
---
Elior's breath caught in his throat.
He didn't know anyone named "L." He didn't recognize the handwriting. He didn't want to believe it—but something about the letter felt… real.
He looked up. The street was empty.
But he could feel it. Something watching. Something waiting.
That night, he couldn't sleep.
He heard scratching behind the walls.
He dreamed of a field of graves, with one freshly dug at the center—his name already carved in the stone.
And when morning came, there was another letter on his windowsill.
The same wax seal.
The same handwriting.
But this one said:
"Six nights remain."