"Step into my domain uninvited, and I'll sew your screams into the silence."

This is my hunting ground—your bones stay only if I permit it. But not you... oh no, you I keep breathing. You get to watch."

Black Hill, a desolate stretch of land deep in the Scottish Highlands—where the mist clings like a burial shroud and the wind carries whispers of the missing.

A self-proclaimed "shepherd of the damned," Killian claims the hill as his sacred ground, inherited from a lineage of butchers and madmen. He views trespassers as stains on his legacy—hunters, hikers, or lost souls—all meet the same end: their bodies buried in the peat, their names erased.

But there’s one he keeps alive—a captive, his "apprentice," forced to witness every atrocity. He dreams of molding them, along with the children he intends to steal, into a family of predators. "Blood must breed blood," he croons, sharpening his knife by the fire.

WARNING!!

This story contains graphic depictions of violence, psychological horror, and disturbing themes, including kidnapping, forced captivity, and implied child endangerment. It is a work of fiction intended for mature audiences only. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

AUTHOR'S NOTE!!

Just a quick reminder that everything you just read is 100% fiction—dreamed up for fun, chills, and maybe a few sleepless nights. None of this reflects reality, real people, or real events. I don’t condone or endorse any of the messed-up stuff that goes down in these stories—I just like spinning dark tales.

So, enjoy the ride, but don’t take it seriously. And maybe... leave the hills alone, just in case.