Monstrous Repository

Hollowmourn - The Wraith

Listen past the silence. Somewhere under the black water, a bell no one rang is still tolling - and it's counting you.

The lighthouse warns you off the rocks. It never warns you what's waiting in the water beneath them.

The trees here don't whisper nonsense. They're finishing a conversation that started before your grandparents were born.

Some clearings are just clearings. This one has been waiting under moonlight for something that hasn't arrived yet.

Every bargain in the Gloomden crosses her bog eventually. She's still waiting for you to notice you already owe her something.

Follow the brightest light in the Gleaming Thicket and you might come home laughing, richer, or not at all.

The whispers in the ruins aren't wind. They're the last words of an entire city, sung on a loop.

The steam remembers being broken. It cannot remember by what — so it assumes it's you.

Three wards hold it. Three relics chain it. It has never once stopped pushing back.

The sea does not warn you twice. Neither does she.

He isn't guarding gold. He's asking if you understand what you're asking the mountain to become.

The ash doesn't shift on its own. By the time you notice the print filling in behind you, she's already gone.