Hidden Hollow

Nestled at the edge of an ancient forest that never appeared on any map, surrounded by misty hills and veiled by forgotten magics, lay the town of Hidden Hollow. Travelers rarely stumbled upon it. Those who did claimed their GPS glitched or that the road seemed to unfold rather than appear. If they stayed a night at the town’s quaint B&B and pub, they usually left with the distinct impression of a dream half-remembered.

And that was exactly how the residents of Hidden Hollow liked it.

1. The B&B and the Exiled Prince

The heart of the town was a cozy timber-framed inn with ivy crawling up its gables and crooked chimneys that puffed cinnamon-scented smoke in the fall. It was called The Foxglove & Fern and was run by a man known to most as Avery Thorne—tall, elegant, with the kind of bone structure usually reserved for Renaissance paintings.

But behind the glamour—woven with the thread of exiled royalty and bound by the sorrow of a homeland lost—Avery was Avaryn ap Thalion, once a prince of the Seelie Court.

“More tea, darling?” he’d ask a guest, pouring from a porcelain pot shaped like a hedgehog, while his golden eyes glinted just a little too brightly. Most never noticed. Most.

But some did.

2. The Troll Who Writes By Day

Behind the pub counter at night stood a broad-shouldered bartender with skin like granite and arms that could crush a beer keg. His name was Grun, but his fans knew him as G.W. Stone, bestselling author of the Thistleborn Chronicles—a young adult fantasy series that featured queer goblin girls riding giant dragonflies and overthrowing oppressive monarchies.

“I kill off one character every book,” he told a group of teens huddled in the booth during book club night. “Keeps ‘em humble.”

Grun was a rock troll, and the best friend of Avery since the days of fae courts and firelit oaths. The two had arrived in Hidden Hollow a hundred years ago and never left. There was magic in the Hollow, ancient and layered like tree rings, and it suited exiles well.

3. The Castle and Its Vampire

Up on the hill, brooding in a way that made it feel obligatory, stood Cendric Manor—a Gothic castle with spires and gargoyles and a library that smelled of dust and eternity.

It had been brought to Hidden Hollow stone by stone from Wales by Lord Sebastian Cendric, a vampire of impeccable taste and an even more impeccable jawline. He was Hidden Hollow’s benefactor, art collector, philanthropist, and resident night-dweller.

He hosted masquerade balls in his ballroom, where music spilled out onto the foggy hills and guests—glamoured and mortal alike—danced until dawn, some not noticing their partners didn’t quite cast reflections.

By all appearances, he was the Hollow’s answer to Bruce Wayne. But unlike Gotham’s caped crusader, Sebastian fought his battles in quieter ways: donations to the town library, antique restorations, and mentoring lost, wayward souls who needed a quiet corner to belong to.

4. The Wolf Pack of the Woods

On the eastern edge of town, where the pine trees grew thick and wildflowers whispered old names, lived the Greywind Pack—a clan of Indigenous shapeshifters who had roamed this land long before it had a name.

Their alpha, Naomi Greywind, taught environmental science at the local school and ran the Hollow’s weekly fire circle. She wore braids wrapped in beads and feathers and had a smile that could calm thunderstorms.

Their territory was sacred. It pulsed with ancestral magic that even Avery dared not trespass without invitation.

“They are not our wolves,” he once told a guest who asked about sightings. “They are themselves. And they allow us to share this land. Remember that.”

5. The Minotaur with a Chef’s Knife

Every small town has that diner—the one that looks like it’s been there since the 1950s and smells like heaven if heaven were made of grilled cheese and sizzling bacon.

In Hidden Hollow, it was The Brass Ladle, and the line cook was a seven-foot-tall man named Theo with curling horns and an apron that read ‘Don’t Make Me Flip You’.

A Minotaur from an old Cretan bloodline, Theo had exchanged labyrinths for line orders. He was quiet, meticulous, and made the best mushroom risotto in three counties.

If you saw Theo carrying a delivery order with one hand and signing a deaf customer’s request with the other, you never forgot it.

6. Mermaids, Math Tests, and Swim Meets

At Hidden Hollow High, the all-girls swim team was undefeated. In part, this was because the girls were naturally gifted. But mostly it was because they were mermaids.

They went by names like Lina, Asha, and Coral, and their glamour made them look like ordinary teens. Underneath, they were sleek, scaled, and powerful—keepers of deep-sea memories and ancestral songs.

They had rules: no swimming during full moons, no singing near windows, and no using sonar to cheat on tests (Asha broke that one once and still felt guilty).

The coach, Ms. Brighton, a gorgon with sunglasses and a clipboard, kept them in line.

7. Market Day

Saturdays in Hidden Hollow were market days. Booths appeared seemingly out of nowhere on the cobblestone town square: enchanted apples that never browned, earrings that whispered forgotten lullabies, potion soaps and crystal amulets sold by witches with weathered smiles.

Avery ran a tea stall called Feybrewed, where every blend had a hidden effect: memory recall, mood elevation, the occasional truth serum.

Grun sold signed books and chocolate crinkles the size of troll fists.

Sebastian, ever mysterious, wandered through the market in gloves and a tailored cloak, offering donations to vendors or buying rare vinyl records from the Hollow’s only record shop.

And in the corner of it all, Naomi told stories to the children—tales of Sky People and River Sisters, of ancestors who walked with thunder and trees that remembered.

8. The Newcomer

It was market day when the stranger arrived.

She had curly dark hair, a messenger bag slung over her shoulder, and a map with Hidden Hollow circled in red. Her name was Maris Caldwell, and she claimed to be researching obscure American folklore.

Avery was pouring her tea when her eyes flicked—just for a second—to the spot where his glamour slipped near the collar.

“You’re not human,” she said softly, but without fear.

He smiled. “Neither are you.”

And she wasn’t. Not quite. She was part nixie—water fae on her mother’s side. But raised in the human world, she’d always felt… dislocated.

“This place,” she whispered later that night to Grun as they closed the pub, “it feels like a heartbeat I’ve been trying to hear my whole life.”

Grun, polishing a tankard with his granite-colored fingers, simply said, “Then you’ve found the Hollow. And it’s found you.”

9. Trouble in the Hollow

But peace is a delicate thing.

That winter, the old magic in the woods began to stir.

Trees whispered of a rift. The river ran backward one morning. The Greywind wolves howled not at the moon, but at something unseen in the sky.

And in the town square, a vendor’s mirror cracked when a man with ash-pale eyes and the scent of burnt roses stepped through.

His name was Ashlan ap Thalion, Avery’s elder brother—and the one who had orchestrated Avery’s exile from the fae courts.

“I come not for war,” he said, though every shadow in the market bristled, “but for retrieval. The Seelie Queen dies. And our people demand the exiled prince return.”

10. The Choice

Avery stood in the town hall—under fairy lights and town banners, beside Grun and Sebastian and Naomi and Theo and the swim team who had all arrived with wet hair and angry eyes.

“This is my home now,” Avery said. “You can’t take me back like a misplaced chess piece.”

Ashlan tilted his head. “You belong with us. Not with these… mongrels.”

The word rang out like a curse.

Grun’s granite hands curled into fists. Theo’s breath steamed. Naomi’s eyes turned amber-bright.

And Maris, standing beside the mayor—who happened to be a banshee—stepped forward.

“He belongs where he is loved,” she said. “And that is here.”

Ashlan’s glamour shattered, revealing his true form—tall, terrible, glowing like a dying sun. But he was alone.

The town was not.

Together, the people of Hidden Hollow summoned their magic. The trolls stomped. The mermaids sang. The wolves howled. The vampire lit torches. Even the gorgon removed her glasses.

It was not a battle. It was a banishment.

Ashlan screamed as the forest itself opened and took him.

Then… stillness.

And Avery, tearful, walked to the middle of the square. “Thank you,” he whispered. “All of you.”

Grun just clapped a hand on his shoulder and said, “Next time someone from the old country shows up, I’m charging a cover.”

11. Spring Comes Again

By spring, the river flowed the right way. New saplings grew where Ashlan had vanished.

Avery renovated The Foxglove & Fern’s attic into a writer’s loft for Maris, who had decided to stay and help Grun with a co-authored book called Hollow Folk.

The swim team won regionals. Naomi was named Hidden Hollow Citizen of the Year. Theo started a brunch menu.

And Sebastian, ever the nocturnal mystery, opened the castle for a midnight film festival of vampire movies. “No Twilight,” he said with a raised brow. “We have standards.”

12. The Hollow Endures

Hidden Hollow remained on no map. But it pulsed with life.

You could hear the heart of it if you listened: in the whisper of wind through enchanted trees, in the steam of soup served by a Minotaur, in the echo of songs sung by girls with scales under their skin.

It was a place for the lost to be found.

For the broken to be mended.

And for the not-so-human to be very, very home.