Whispers of Ember Hollow

Origins: Ember Hollow

"Off there to the west... just beyond the horizon, there’s a stretch of land most maps won’t mark," said Dawson, adjusting his compass.

“What land is that?” asked Myles, leaning over the side of the ferry, trying to pierce through the mist curling across the ocean’s surface.

“Locals call it Ember Hollow,” Dawson replied. “Strange name, I know. Comes from the way the cliffs glow red at sunset. Looks like the island is burning. But most folks don’t speak of it much, if they can help it.”

"Why? Just superstition?" Myles asked with a raised brow, half-mocking.

Dawson hesitated. “That’s what the guides say. But every so often, someone disappears out there. And no one ever goes looking.”

Myles chuckled, “Sounds like a sailor’s ghost story. I'm here for adventure, not bedtime fairy tales.”

"You won’t be laughing when the fog swallows your bearings," Dawson muttered.

The Fog Deepens

The ocean was dead calm. Not a breeze, not a wave. Just that thick blanket of mist that crept up the sides of the boat like hungry fingers.

Myles lit a cigarette. “You always this dramatic?”

Dawson didn’t reply. Instead, he pointed to a faint crimson shimmer on the water, where the sun dipped low and hit what looked like... cliffs? Myles narrowed his eyes. He could barely make them out. sharp edges and something like smoke, rising from the trees?

“See that glow?” Dawson asked. “That’s Ember Hollow. No one's set foot there in decades. Except...” He paused.

“Except?” Myles pressed.

“Except those who never come back.”

A Dare Too Tempting

It started as a joke.

Myles, a vlogger with a following hungry for urban legends and ‘truth-seeking adventures,’ had heard whispers about Ember Hollow on a podcast. The place was perfect: abandoned, eerie, and unconfirmed. Exactly the kind of place that got views.

He made a plan. One night. One tent. One drone camera. In and out. He even hired Dawson, a retired naval surveyor, to ferry him as close as the tides allowed.

“You’ve got till dawn,” Dawson warned. “I won’t wait longer.”

The Island Awakens

As Myles stepped onto the rocky shore, the air changed. The breeze dropped, replaced by a heavy stillness. Even the waves behind him seemed to hush.

He looked around. Forest. Ruins. Crows watching from above.

But deeper in... there was movement. Structures. Shadows. And what sounded like... humming? Like a low chant, carried on the wind.

The Game Begins

By nightfall, Myles realized something was wrong.

Not just with the air or the strange lights flickering between the trees... but with the ground itself. Every path he took looped back to the same place. The trees had shifted. His drone lost signal. His compass spun uselessly.

And then he heard it: footsteps. Measured. Deliberate.

He wasn’t alone.

CONTINUE -- Part II