The early morning sun cast a pale light over the empty highway as Peter drove, his fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly. The road stretched endlessly ahead, flanked by thick forests on both sides. Emily sat beside him, flipping through a stack of old news articles on her tablet.
"You sure about this?" she asked, glancing at him. "This place... it's been wiped from almost every record. That doesn't happen by accident."
Peter nodded. "That's exactly why we need to go. something—wants Ravenswood to be forgotten."
As they neared their destination, a spectral silence settled over the road. No other cars. No signboards. Just an overwhelming sense of isolation.
They pulled into a small gas station at the last marked town before Ravenswood. An old man behind the counter froze when Peter mentioned the village.
"Ravenswood?" the man's voice trembled. "Turn back. Leave while you still can."
Peter exchanged a glance with Emily. "Why? What's so dangerous about it?"
The man's wrinkled hands clenched into fists. "They never listen... they always go. And they never come back."
A shiver ran down Peter's spine.
Ignoring the warning, they continued on. The trees lining the road grew denser, their branches forming a tunnel of shadows. The deeper they drove, the darker it became, as though the sun itself refused to touch Ravenswood.
Suddenly, the car's GPS flickered and shut off. The radio crackled with static. Emily reached for her phone—no signal.
And then, as if stepping through an invisible barrier, the road changed. The pavement became cracked, ancient, as though untouched for decades.
Peter slowed the car, his heart pounding. "We're here."
A weathered sign loomed ahead, half-buried in vines. The words barely visible beneath the grime:
Welcome to Ravenswood.