Deep within the mist-laden countryside, hidden from the world, stood Black Hollow Manor—a house cursed by whispers of the past. Few dared to speak of it, and even fewer ventured near, for those who did often never returned. I, Merlin, have seen the rise and fall of empires, conversed with kings and gods alike, but even I hesitate before places where time itself holds its breath. Tonight, I return to Black Hollow, where a promise long broken calls me back… and where the dead are still waiting.

The Haunting of Black Hollow Manor

I have walked the roads of time, seen the bones of forgotten empires, and spoken to those long dead. And yet, as I stood at the edge of Black Hollow Manor, I felt something I had not felt in centuries.

Dread.

The house loomed before me, its darkened silhouette outlined against the storm-heavy sky. The world seemed to hold its breath around it—no wind stirred the trees, no birds called from the branches. Even the insects, those tireless creatures of the night, dared not make a sound.

Black Hollow had not changed in all these years.

I remembered when it had been built. Lord Aldric Blackwood, a man of wealth and ambition, had raised its walls with pride, declaring it a house for eternity. But eternity, I had learned, is a dangerous promise.

For what lingers beyond time is rarely kind.

A flicker of movement caught my eye—a curtain shifting in a second-floor window. Yet no one had lived here in over a hundred years.

I tightened my grip on my staff.

The house was waiting for me.

And so, I entered.

I stepped across the threshold of Black Hollow Manor, and the air itself seemed to resist my presence. The house did not welcome me. It never had.

The wooden floors groaned beneath my boots, their age protesting my intrusion. Dust, thick and undisturbed for decades, clung to the grand staircase that spiraled into darkness. Faded tapestries hung limply on the walls, their once-grand designs barely visible under centuries of decay.

But it was the silence that unsettled me most.

Not the silence of an empty house, but a watching silence. A silence that listens.

The front door slammed shut behind me.

Not by the wind.

Something knew I had arrived.

The Unfinished Business of the Dead

I moved forward, my staff glowing faintly with magic. The air was thick, like wading through invisible cobwebs. Shadows shifted in the corners of my vision, but when I turned, nothing was there.

Then, from the grand hall, came the first whisper.

“Merlin… you have returned at last.”

I did not flinch.

I had known something awaited me here.

Stepping into the hall, I found myself surrounded by portraits of the Blackwood family, their painted eyes watching with expressions frozen in time. The chandelier above, long unlit, swayed gently as if touched by unseen fingers.

And then—a figure emerged from the shadows.

A woman, draped in tattered black, her form half-transparent. Her once-beautiful face was hollowed by death, her eyes glowing with an otherworldly light.

Lady Eleanor Blackwood.

The last mistress of this house. The one who had begged for my aid so long ago.

“You did not come,” she whispered, her voice like dry leaves rustling in the wind. “We called for you… but you did not come.”

Her words were not an accusation. They were a sorrow, deep and endless.

I bowed my head. “I know,” I said softly. “And I have regretted it ever since.”

The Curse of Black Hollow

Long ago, this house had been more than just a home—it had been a prison for those who had wronged its master.

Lord Aldric Blackwood, a man of wealth but no mercy, had sought my knowledge of the arcane. He wanted more than gold, more than land—he wanted power beyond life itself.

When I refused him, he found another way.

He made a pact.

With something not of this world.

And so, Black Hollow Manor became a doorway—a place where the living and the dead intertwined, where spirits could not pass on, bound by the Lord’s insatiable hunger for power.

And when he died, he did not leave.

Neither did those who had suffered under his rule.

And neither did Lady Eleanor.

I had been summoned to break the curse once before. But by the time I had arrived, it was too late.

The house had already consumed itself.

And now, even in death, they remained.

A House That Hungers

A cold wind snaked through the room, carrying voices that did not belong to the living.

“You must end this,” Eleanor whispered, stepping closer. “Before he wakes again.”

I felt it then.

A shift in the house.

The stirrings of something ancient.

Lord Blackwood had never truly been vanquished. He had been waiting, buried beneath centuries of stillness. And now, with my arrival, he was stirring once more.

The very walls shuddered as the manor began to wake.

A deep, inhuman voice rumbled from the darkness above.

“Merlin… you have come to me at last.”

The floor beneath me cracked.

The shadows breathed.

And the house came alive.

A Battle Against the Unseen

A force slammed into me, unseen but powerful. I staggered back, my staff flaring with golden light as I barely held my ground.

The air thickened, turning into a suffocating weight. The walls shifted, twisting as if the house itself was reshaping reality around me.

Laughter echoed—deep, low, and filled with malice.

Lord Blackwood was here.

Erasing time. Erasing space. Trapping me.

I thrust my staff forward, unleashing a surge of magic, light pouring from my hands. The walls screamed, the very structure of the house resisting my presence. The portraits twisted, their painted faces contorting into monstrous forms.

And then—a hand burst from the shadows.

A skeletal, rotted hand, reaching for me. Clawing for my very essence.

I countered.

With a word of power, I struck. Light erupted, shattering the darkness, forcing the thing that had once been Lord Blackwood to recoil.

“You cannot stop me, Merlin,” the voice whispered. “This house is mine. This curse is mine. And now… so are you.”

The entire room collapsed inward—the walls, the ceiling, the air itself folding into an abyss of nothingness.

And I fell.

The Final Stand

When I awoke, I was no longer in Black Hollow Manor.

I was inside it.

A place where time did not exist. Where souls did not escape.

A realm created by Blackwood’s curse.

Shadows swirled like liquid night, twisting into monstrous figures—the souls he had taken.

Eleanor’s voice echoed faintly. “Merlin… break the cycle… free us…”

I stood, gripping my staff.

If I did not end this now, Blackwood would rise again. And this place—this cursed house—would continue to feed.

I whispered an incantation.

The realm shuddered.

The spirits shrieked, their forms unraveling as the house fought to keep its grip on them.

And then, from the darkness—Blackwood emerged.

A towering specter, draped in shadow, his face a skeletal grin.

“You cannot unmake what is eternal,” he hissed.

I met his gaze.

“You are not eternal,” I said. “You are just unfinished.“

And then, with every ounce of power I possessed—I shattered the curse.

The realm collapsed.

Blackwood screamed, his form disintegrating into dust, his hold on this world finally—finally—undone.

The Aftermath

I awoke outside the ruins of Black Hollow Manor.

There was no house anymore.

Only empty land, swallowed by time.

The ghosts were gone.

The house was gone.

And Lord Blackwood… would never return.

Eleanor’s voice, no more than a whisper on the wind, drifted through the air.

“Thank you.”

Then, silence.

I exhaled, looking at the empty land before me.

Not all endings bring peace.

But some curses, at least, can finally rest.

And with that, I turned and walked away—leaving Black Hollow to be forgotten forever.