In the quiet outskirts of a forgotten hollow, beyond the cypress trees and the choking mist, lies a stretch of land long abandoned by time. Locals call it Black Water Grave-named for the lifeless, tar-dark swamp at its heart. Nothing grows there and the water, thick as oil, never ripples. It only lies in wait. 

Long ago, a small town sprang up on the banks of Black Water. It was a hopeful place full of dreamers, drifter, and the damned. But the land was cursed. The deeper the settlers dug into the earth, into the swamp, into their own fears-the more the grave below opened. The air turned sour and people vanished.

One eerie night, the entire town disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only the black water. Over the years, story spread of shadowy shapes, moving beneath the surface, of strange laughter, echoing through the fog, of something ancient and hungry beneath the muck. But thrill seekers came anyway.

Now, each year, the cursed gates of Black Water Grave creak open welcoming in travelers from far and wide all while a deep darkness lurks in the shadows. People are lured in to wander the fog-choked paths, only to find themselves lost and alone, searching endlessly for a way out. As time goes on the swamp will claim their lives too and they will forever be apart of the Black Water Grave.