Some places are not meant for us. They exist on the frayed edges of our maps, in the quiet whispers of local folklore. They are wounds on the landscape, where time itself has broken and failed to heal. The Blackwood Forest was one such place.
Ten years ago, a seasoned hunter named Elias Vance walked into its shadowed embrace, chasing a rumor of a legendary stag. He was a man who knew the woods...
