"In the calmness of the woods, there are whispers that echo within your soul. You cannot see them. You cannot hear them.
But it sees you."
> Far in the mountains, beyond the noise of the cities and the warmth of civilization, lies The Hollowpine Hotel — an old-fashioned, sophisticated lodge, its crimson candlelight flickering through frost-kissed windows, glowing like watchful eyes in the darkness of night.
It was a stormy night, the trees hitting each other and the air was cold
One by one, the guests arrived, not together — but not by coincidence.
The first was Leo, all toothy grins and loud jokes, his breath fogging the cold air as he stepped off the hotel's private shuttle, duffel bag slung over his shoulder like a runaway clown. "Looks like Dracula's Airbnb," he quipped, half to the driver, half to himself, the driver stayed silent, no sign of reaction.
Vera Knox followed, camera in hand, already recording the towering façade. Her coat was designer, but her eyes held that filmmaker's hunger — always hunting for something grotesque beneath the beautiful. "Perfect," she whispered. "Just perfect."
Mason Teller said nothing when he arrived. The driver offered to carry his bags; he declined with a nod. His thick frame looked carved from stone, sweat already cooling against his skin — he'd hiked the final stretch uphill, just because he could.
Then came Ivy Sinclair, emerging from a sleek black car. Her heels clicked on the icy stone steps, each sound sharp, deliberate. She didn't look at the hotel — she looked at the woods behind it, as if expecting something to come out.
Finally, Dr. Asha Bloom stepped out quietly, gloved hands clasped in front of her. She took in the building with calm eyes, Her lips parted slightly — recognition? A memory? — she gave nothing away as she walked through the grand doors.
Five strangers. Different lives. Different stories. But each had one thing in common:
They had all been invited.
By name.
With care.
With purpose.
And none of them had asked why.
> Soon, the guests gathered in the grand entry of the hotel — tall ceilings, a roaring stone fireplace, candlelight dancing across the glossy wooden floor.
They eyed each other with quiet confusion, none of them expecting to share the place with anyone else.
Each held the same thing: a thick envelope bearing their full name in elegant handwriting, sealed with deep red wax, and a vintage-style key attached to a thin black ribbon.
Leo was the first to speak, his voice breaking the silence like a match strike.
"Well... this ain't awkward at all," he said, grinning. "I thought I booked a peaceful retreat, not an Agatha Christie weekend."
He stepped forward, holding up his key like a game show prize.
"Name's Leo. I crack jokes when I'm nervous, which is always. Who are you all?"
Vera raised an eyebrow but said nothing, tucking her envelope into her coat.
Mason leaned against the stair railing, arms crossed, unreadable.
Ivy looked around, more annoyed than concerned. "There must be some mistake," she muttered, her accent sharp. "I was told this would be private."
Asha was the only one who smiled, gently. "Maybe we were all told that."
There was a pause — a soft creaking sound echoed from somewhere above them. The guests looked up, but saw nothing. The chandelier swayed, just slightly.
> The wind howled against the windows, and for a moment, the only sound inside the lobby was the subtle crackle of firewood shifting in the hearth.
Then — the front doors creaked open.
A gust of cold air swept in, flickering every candle in the lobby and sending a sharp chill crawling up the guests' spines.
A man stepped through the threshold — tall, composed, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit with a deep burgundy vest beneath. His shoes gleamed despite the snow outside. Not a flake of frost clung to his coat.
He walked like he owned the floor beneath him.
His hair was neatly parted, his face clean-shaven but not cold — there was warmth in his smile, but it never quite reached his eyes.
"Ah," he said, voice smooth, "you're all here. Wonderful."
He didn't rush, nor hesitate. He stepped forward with the calm grace of someone who had rehearsed this moment many times.
The guests turned toward him, instinctively drawn to the presence. Even Mason straightened up.
The man stopped at the center of the room and opened his arms slightly in welcome.
"Welcome," he said, with that same slight smile. "To Hollowpine."
A beat. His gaze flicked across each of their faces — not evaluating, but savoring.
Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he added:
"Where silence... holds secrets."
> The doors clicked shut behind him, sealing the cold outside. Ellis took a slow breath, then gave a charming nod.
"I'm delighted to have you all," he said, stepping forward. "You've each come a long way — allow me to show you to your rooms."
Without waiting for objections, he moved with smooth, practiced steps across the lobby, lifting a brass lantern from a side table.
"This way, please."
The guests hesitated — then, one by one, followed. Their footsteps echoed in the vast hallway, lit only by flickering candle sconces and the warm yellow glow of Ellis's lantern.
"Each room has been tailored to your comfort," Ellis continued, voice smooth and reassuring. "You'll find your belongings already placed inside, along with your welcome letter and a few personal touches."
As they passed doors, he pointed them out by name. "Ms. Sinclair, you're just here — Room 3. Ms. Knox, across the hall. Mr. Teller, just beside the stairs. Ms. Bloom, Room 6. Mr. Martinez… at the end of the corridor."
Each room had an antique brass number on the door, the handles cold to the touch. The air in the hallway felt heavier than it had in the lobby — like the walls were listening.
"You'll find the dining hall down the grand staircase, just past the mirror corridor," Ellis said, smiling as he handed Leo his room key. "Dinner will be served promptly at eight."
He paused, glancing at them all with a measured smile — not unkind, but far too knowing.
"I do hope you'll enjoy each other's company. After all… you'll be here for quite some time."
A beat. No one laughed.
Ellis tilted his head slightly.
"It's always best, I find, when guests become acquainted early. Shared experience brings people together."
Another pause. His eyes twinkled — but the warmth behind them felt… manufactured.
"I'll leave you to settle in. There are bells beside your doors if you need anything. Though I do encourage exploring. Hollowpine has a… fascinating history."
He bowed slightly, turned on his heel, and disappeared back down the candlelit corridor — leaving behind only silence… and questions.