Blackthorn

Prologue

If malevolence could be a place, it would be Blackthorn Manor.

Nestled in the tangled black woods beneath leaden skies filled with flocks of circling ravens stands the brooding, ancient house where I was born and raised. Though to call it a house is akin to calling hell a warm destination.

The truth is far more terrifying.

I fell in love in that house.

I nearly died there, too.

Now, as I’m rolled away on a stretcher with an oxygen mask strapped to my face, I watch Blackthorn burn to ruins, the gnarled trunks of the old trees that stand sentinel beside it painted red like streaks of primordial blood from reflections of the massive flames devouring it.

And I know at long last that I’m free of this place and the stranglehold it has always had over me.

Except for my dreams where Blackthorn and its ghosts will always find me, I’m finally free.