The Invitation

The Invitation

Nathan Ellis had never been one for surprises, least of all cryptic ones. So when he found the letter waiting for him on his doorstep that crisp October morning, his first instinct was to toss it in the trash. No return address. No stamp. Just his name scrawled in thick black ink, as if the sender had been in a rush or had shaky hands. But something about the weight of the envelope—a curious thickness, the faint scent of old paper—made him stop.

Slipping his finger beneath the seal, he tore it open and pulled out a single sheet of yellowing parchment. The writing was sparse, barely filling a quarter of the page.

“You are cordially invited to a gathering. The hour is midnight. Your presence is required.”

There was no address, no further instructions. Just those two lines, stark and simple.

Nathan frowned, flipping the paper over. Nothing on the back. He wasn’t sure why, but his pulse quickened. It felt like some kind of prank—one of those stupid viral challenges or an art installation that college kids would come up with. Yet, the age of the paper and the strange formality of the words unsettled him.

Required? By whom? And where?

“Probably one of the guys from work,” he muttered, crumpling the letter in his hand. But even as he said it, he knew it didn’t feel right. There was something heavier lurking behind the gesture, like a tug at his subconscious, urging him to pay attention.

The rest of the day passed in a blur. At work, he couldn’t shake the strange feeling that hung over him. He even thought about calling a few friends to ask if they had received anything similar, but stopped himself. He’d sound paranoid. Overthinking it, like always. Maybe someone was just messing with him—testing to see if he'd take the bait.

Midnight came quickly, though Nathan had no intention of going anywhere. He sat on his couch, mindlessly flipping through the channels, the crumpled letter still on the coffee table. The house was quiet, the hum of the refrigerator the only sound breaking the stillness.

Then the knock came.

At first, he thought he imagined a soft, deliberate rapping at the front door. He sat up straight, listening. Another knock followed, louder this time.

Nathan stood, his heart hammering in his chest. He crossed the room slowly, his feet hesitant, as if his body was warning him not to go any further. He opened the door a crack and peered out.

A man stood on the porch, bathed in the weak glow of the porch light. He was tall and gaunt, dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit that looked like it belonged to another era. His skin was pale, almost sickly, and his eyes, though calm, had a strange intensity that made Nathan’s mouth go dry.

“You’re late,” the man said in a smooth, almost soothing voice.

“Excuse me?”

The man tilted his head slightly as if studying him. “For the gathering. It’s time.”

Nathan opened the door wider, suddenly feeling exposed. “I didn’t—look, I don’t know who you are or what this is, but I’m not interested.”

The man’s thin lips curled into a small smile. “Your presence is required, Mr. Ellis. We’ve been waiting.”

A cold sweat broke out across Nathan’s forehead. “Who are you? Who sent you?”

The man’s smile didn’t waver. “All will be revealed soon enough. But I advise you not to delay any longer.”

Something in the man’s voice, in the absolute certainty with which he spoke, made Nathan feel like he didn’t have a choice. The rational part of his brain was screaming at him to close the door, to lock it, and call the police. But he found himself stepping outside instead, as if pulled by invisible strings.

The night was colder than he expected, the air thick with an eerie stillness. The man stepped aside, gesturing to a black sedan parked by the curb. The car’s windows were tinted, so dark that Nathan couldn’t see who—if anyone—was inside.

“I’ll drive,” the man said, already moving toward the car.

Nathan hesitated, glancing back at his house, the warm light spilling out onto the porch. He could still go back. Close the door. Pretend this never happened. But something deep inside urged him forward, as if turning back now would mean more than just declining an invitation. It would mean missing something… vital.

Without another word, Nathan climbed into the backseat. The door closed behind him with a soft click, sealing him inside the darkness. The car’s interior smelled faintly of leather and something else—something metallic.

The man slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the hum barely audible. They drove in silence, the city lights fading as they moved farther from the familiar streets of Nathan’s neighborhood.

“How long is this going to take?” Nathan asked, his voice sounding hollow in the confined space.

“We’ll be there soon,” the man replied, not turning to look at him.

Nathan tried to focus on the road, but the windows seemed to blur the outside world. They were moving fast—faster than felt safe. His heart was racing, his mind screaming at him to ask more questions, demand answers. But he couldn’t form the words.

After what felt like an eternity, the car slowed and turned down a narrow, winding road flanked by tall, ancient trees. The headlights illuminated an old iron gate at the end of the path, the rusted bars swinging open as if by some unseen force.

They pulled up in front of a massive estate—an old mansion, its stone walls covered in thick ivy. The windows were dark, but a dim light flickered from within, as if a fire burned in a distant room.

“We’re here,” the man said softly, turning to meet Nathan’s eyes for the first time since they had left.

Nathan swallowed hard. His hands were clammy, his throat dry. He wanted to ask what this place was, who was inside, but the words caught in his throat.

“After you,” the man said, holding the door open.

Nathan stepped out, his legs feeling weak. The air here was different—heavier, charged with something electric, like the world was holding its breath. The man led him up the stone steps to the front door, which creaked open before they reached it.

Inside, the mansion was just as grand as the outside had suggested, but it had a neglected air to it. Dust coated the furniture, and cobwebs clung to the high ceilings. The scent of old wood and something faintly sweet—decay, maybe—hung in the air.

They walked in silence through a long corridor, their footsteps echoing on the marble floors. Nathan’s mind raced, but his body moved automatically, as if he had no control over it anymore.

Finally, they reached a large set of double doors at the end of the hall. The man stopped and turned to Nathan, his expression unreadable.

“This is where we part ways,” the man said. “You’ll find your answers inside.”

Before Nathan could respond, the man opened the doors and stepped aside, motioning for Nathan to enter.

Nathan hesitated for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. He wanted to run. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to turn around and leave this place behind. But instead, he stepped forward.

The room beyond was dimly lit by a single chandelier, its crystal pendants casting strange shadows across the walls. In the center of the room stood a long wooden table, and seated around it were eight figures, their faces obscured by dark hoods.

They all turned to face Nathan as he entered, their eyes glowing faintly beneath their hoods. There was something wrong about them, something off. Their skin looked too pale, their movements too slow, too deliberate.

“Welcome, Nathan,” one of them said in a voice that sounded both familiar and alien. “We’ve been expecting you.”

Nathan’s mouth went dry. “Who… who are you? Why am I here?”

The figure at the head of the table rose, pulling back their hood. Nathan’s heart nearly stopped when he saw the face beneath. It was his father. A man who had died five years ago.

“We are the chosen,” his father said, his voice calm but full of authority. “And you, Nathan, have been selected to join us.”

Nathan took a step back, his mind reeling. “This isn’t real. You’re not real.”

His father smiled. “Oh, it’s very real. We are bound by blood, by time, by something far greater than life itself. You’ve felt it, haven’t you? The pull? The sense that there’s something more?”

Nathan shook his head, backing away toward the door. “No. This is insane.”

“You can’t run from this,” his father said, his voice growing deeper, darker. “You were chosen before you were born. Tonight, you take your place among us.”

The figures at the table rose as one, their eyes glowing brighter now, casting an eerie light across the room. The air felt thick, oppressive, as if the walls themselves were closing in.

Nathan turned and ran, his heart thundering in his chest. He bolted through the corridor, past the dusty furniture, past the strange portraits on the walls, until he burst through the front door and out into the cold night air.

The man in the suit was gone. The car was gone. The mansion loomed behind him, its windows now glowing with an unnatural light.

He didn’t stop running until he reached the road. By then, his lungs were burning, and his legs felt like they would give out any second. The forest around him was dense, the trees tall and twisted, blocking most of the moonlight. Nathan didn’t know where he was going, but his only thought was to get as far away from the mansion as possible.

He risked a glance behind him, half expecting to see those hooded figures chasing him, but the road was empty. Still, the air around him felt wrong, heavy, as though something unseen was following him.

Up ahead, through the thick canopy of trees, he spotted a faint glimmer of light—maybe a car’s headlights or a house. Relief washed over him. He wasn’t completely alone out here. He could get help. Maybe someone would let him use a phone, or better yet, drive him back to town.

But as he stumbled toward the light, a low hum filled the air, growing louder with each step. It was an unnatural sound, vibrating through his bones, like the walls of reality were bending. 

And then he saw them.

Figures—at first only shadows—moving between the trees. They emerged slowly, one by one, like phantoms slipping out of the darkness. Hooded figures, their eyes glowing faintly in the gloom.

They weren’t running. They didn’t need to. They were closing in on him, surrounding him without ever speeding up, as though they knew Nathan couldn’t escape.

Panic surged through him, and he bolted toward the light, his feet pounding against the dirt road. His breath came in ragged gasps, and his heart hammered against his ribs, but no matter how fast he ran, the figures seemed to keep pace with him. He could feel their eyes on him, cold and watchful.

As he neared the light, he realized with a sinking heart that it wasn’t a house or a car. It was a single lantern, flickering weakly from a post in the middle of a small clearing.

And standing beneath the lantern was the man in the suit.

He was waiting for him, his hands clasped behind his back, his expression serene. “You can’t outrun destiny, Mr. Ellis,” the man said, his voice calm, as though they were simply meeting for a pleasant conversation.

Nathan skidded to a stop, his chest heaving, his mind racing for an escape. But the hooded figures were already closing in, their glowing eyes locking onto him.

“Please,” Nathan gasped, his voice cracking with desperation. “I don’t want any part of this. I’m not—I'm not one of you.”

The man took a step forward, his eyes narrowing with pity. “You’ve already been marked, Nathan. You were marked the moment you were born. There’s no running from that.”

The hooded figures moved closer, their presence suffocating, the air around them thick with an unnatural stillness. Nathan’s legs felt like lead, his body heavy and sluggish. He backed up, his mind screaming for him to run, but it was too late.

The man reached into his suit jacket and pulled out something small and metallic—a silver coin, ancient and worn. He held it out to Nathan, his expression softening.

“You’ve been chosen, Nathan. Accept it. This is your legacy.”

Nathan stared at the coin, his heart racing. His father’s face flashed before his eyes, the glowing eyes, the eerie calm. He knew—deep down, he knew—that if he took that coin, if he accepted it, there would be no going back. He would be one of them, bound to whatever ancient, dark force had chosen him.

But if he refused… what then? He glanced at the figures surrounding him, their eyes gleaming like predators closing in on their prey.

Nathan reached out, his hand trembling as he hovered over the coin. The air seemed to grow colder, the weight of the moment pressing down on him like an invisible hand. His fingers brushed the metal, and for a split second, the world seemed to pause.

Then he yanked his hand back.

“No,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I’m not doing this. I won’t.”

The man’s expression darkened, his eyes narrowing into slits. The hooded figures stopped, their movements freezing like statues.

“Do you truly believe you have a choice?” the man asked, his voice low and dangerous now. “You’ve already been claimed, Nathan. You’re theirs, whether you accept it or not.”

Nathan shook his head, backing away. “No. You’re wrong. I don’t belong to anyone.”

The man’s smile twisted into something cruel. “Then you’ll die as one of the lost.”

Suddenly, the ground beneath Nathan’s feet trembled, and the air grew thick with a suffocating pressure. The lantern’s light flickered violently, casting grotesque shadows that danced across the hooded figures’ faces.

The man in the suit stepped back, his smile fading as the hooded figures began to move again, this time faster, closing in on Nathan with terrifying speed.

Nathan turned and ran.

The forest blurred around him as he sprinted blindly into the darkness, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The trees seemed to shift and twist, their branches reaching out like skeletal fingers, snagging his clothes and cutting into his skin. He could hear the figures behind him, their footsteps impossibly quiet but relentless.

His legs burned, his lungs screamed for air, but he kept running, driven by sheer terror. He didn’t know where he was going—he just needed to get away, to find some way out of this nightmare.

Up ahead, he spotted a break in the trees—a clearing. He pushed himself harder, his body threatening to give out, but as he burst into the open, he froze.

It wasn’t a clearing.

It was the mansion.

The same mansion he had just escaped, standing before him like a grotesque, towering shadow. The doors were wide open, and from within, a dim, sickly light spilled out, casting long, jagged shadows across the lawn.

He was back.

“No,” Nathan whispered, shaking his head in disbelief. “No, no, no—this can’t be happening.”

Behind him, the hooded figures emerged from the trees, their glowing eyes fixed on him, their movements slow and deliberate.

Nathan backed away, his heart pounding in his ears. He couldn’t go back inside. He wouldn’t.

But as the figures closed in, the man in the suit appeared again, standing at the mansion’s entrance, the silver coin still in his hand.

“It’s time, Nathan,” the man said, his voice calm and final. “Accept your fate.”

Nathan’s back hit the cold stone wall of the mansion. His mind raced, searching for a way out, for any escape.

But there was none.

The hooded figures were nearly upon him now, their eyes burning into him, their presence overwhelming.

He had no choice.

With trembling hands, Nathan reached out and took the coin.

The moment his fingers closed around the metal, the world seemed to shudder. The hooded figures stopped, their eyes dimming as they slowly backed away, disappearing into the darkness.

The man smiled, his expression serene once more. “Welcome home, Nathan.”

As the coin’s cold weight settled in his hand, Nathan felt something stir deep within him—something ancient, something dark.

He was no longer Nathan Ellis.

He belonged to them now.

And there was no escape.

The End.