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Grand Legend — The Hollowing of Caer Wyrrd

Long ago*, in the dusk-blanketed realm of Caer Wyrrd, the boundary between the living and the dead grew thin each Samhain. On this hallowed night, when the breath of autumn turned to frost and shadows stretched long, a secret ritual was kept. Its purpose: to bind the Hollow King—an ancient spirit of silence, rot, and unmaking—beneath the standing stones of Black Fen. So long as the ritual flame was lit and the names were whispered, the dead would rest, the harvest would thrive, and the darkness would keep to its grave.*

But this year*, the final fire did not burn. The ring was left cold. And so, the Hollowing began.*

Mists seep now from forgotten places. Lanterns swing in doorways that were never built. Bells toll in reverse at midnight, and murmurs follow travelers through empty fields. Folk speak of vanished time, of carved symbols reappearing—etched in bark, sealed in wax, formed in ice. Old protections unravel, and strange figures walk beneath the moon in borrowed skins.

Eight wanderers*—marked by omen, bound by curse—are drawn from their fractured paths. A fire-watcher, a bone-reader, a ward-maker... each touched by the breach in ways they cannot yet speak. As Samhain nears once more and the last eclipse looms, they must recover the rites, rekindle the flame, and return to Black Fen.*

For if the Hollow King rises, the world will not end in fire or frost— but in silence.