Willow Braselton grew up in Atlanta high society, trained to smile, be polite, and speak only of pleasant things.
But there were certain truths she couldn’t keep inside, no matter how hard she tried to swallow them.
Like what happened her senior year, the night she was left alone with her adored teacher.
Like the dark shapes she saw in the misty places where the world wore thin.
Her family dismissed her. Her friends turned away. But Willow knew what she knew.
When a visiting folklorist suggests the blood of old mountain families might run in her veins, Willow bolts for Hemridge, North Carolina—a town where the woods press close, the church bells ring too loud, and every porch light flickers a warning.
There, she meets Cole, a quiet, sharp-eyed local with grief etched into his bones. Together, they uncover a coffin-shaped relic whispered about for generations.
The Queen’s Box.
Once opened, it doesn’t just stir up Hemridge’s ancient secrets. It tears a hole between worlds—drawing Willow across the threshold into a cursed shadow-land where every lie she’s ever been told sharpens into monstrous truth.
What she finds there isn’t a fairy tale—it’s a snarl of stolen children, blood rites, and curses that bind her fate to Hemridge itself. To Cole. And to a hunger that will demand more than she ever meant to give.
Because the Queen’s Box isn’t just a relic.
It’s a reckoning.
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