In the cold, wind-scoured November hills, Wyatt Kessler lives alone in a fortified cabin, reading the desperate pleas of those haunted by things no one else can see. He’s no charlatan. He’s the man you call when your last hope dies screaming in the dark.
When an old-fashioned letter arrives, bearing cracked red wax and a single blackened oak leaf etched with impossible glyphs, Wyatt knows this case is real before he even touches it. The plea inside is stark: Please help us. It’s eating everything. Don’t tell the police.
Following the letter’s trail, he finds Blackroot Hollow, a dying town ruled by fear and silence. Its orchard looms on the valley’s edge, a twisted expanse of blackened trees whose very geometry defies the eye. Protective glyphs in town have been sabotaged, turned from barriers into invitations, and the people know better than to speak of what waits among the branches.
Armed with iron nails, blessed salt, silver-edged knives, and the Binding Token that chills him when