An Original Horror Mod, based on an orignal Story .

Hollowmere: The Keeper of the Last Page

4,000 days. Somebody has to keep it.

A journal has passed from hand to hand in the valley of Hollowmere for two hundred years. Each keeper wrote until the trees took them, and the next one woke with the book already in their pocket. This is the story of the last keeper, and of the page after the last page.

Chapter I: The Quiet Orchard

Wren Ashby did not remember picking up the journal. She remembered the valley: green, open, so quiet that her own footsteps sounded rude. Then a weight in her coat pocket, a leather book and a single torn page.

The page was signed E. Elias Vane had planted an orchard here two centuries ago. He wrote that the black trees came up between his apple trees in a single night, and that the fruit on them was sweet as honey left in the sun.

Eat it if you're frightened, Elias wrote. It helps.

And it did. The first night, something with a pillowcase face stood at the edge of her torchlight and didn't move. Wren's hands shook so hard she dropped her sword. So she ate a hushfruit, and the fear went out of her like water down a drain.

It felt like mercy. By the third fruit, she tried to hum a song her mother used to sing, and nothing came out. Out in the grass, the people of the valley stood very still and watched her with polite, empty faces. None of them made a sound, either.

She began to wonder what the fruit was really taking, and who it was being given to.

On the fortieth night, the ground beneath the orchard began to split. Roots burst up in a ring around her. Something underneath was climbing, and somewhere in the dark, very close, she heard a pair of shears open and close.

Chapter II: Nine Tolls

The pages kept coming. Some mornings there was a new one in her pocket, the ink still wet. They were written by keepers who had lived long before her. One was a county surveyor who kept measuring the same field and getting a different answer. Another was Sister Agnes Morrow, who tended a chapel at the edge of the valley sixty years after Elias.

Don't count the bells, Agnes wrote. If you count to nine, it knows you're listening.

Wren found the chapel on day one hundred and twenty. Its bell was cracked straight down the middle. Below it, in the churchyard, dozens of the silent people stood shoulder to shoulder facing the door, like a congregation that had arrived too late.

She thought she understood. If she rang the bell, anyone still hiding in the valley would hear it and run. A warning. It was a good idea. It was the kind of idea a hero has.

She rang it once. The sound split the sky.

Then the bell began to ring by itself, and Wren found she was counting without meaning to. Six. Seven. Eight. High above the chapel, the clouds were parting around a shaft of pale light, and something was coming down through it...

Nine...

Chapter III: Ready or Not

The fifth keeper was eleven years old. June Pell's handwriting was round and careful, and she drew pictures in the margins: a house, a dog, and a very tall man with arms that touched the ground.

Mr. Longarms plays hide and seek, June wrote. He counts to ten. You never hear him finish. The trick is you have to stay in the light.

By day six hundred, Wren wasn't alone anymore. She had found three children in a flooded mill, the first living people she'd seen in months. She built them a room with torches on every wall and promised them no one would come in.

The challenge was simple to say and impossible to do. The torches had to stay lit all night, every night, and something in the valley kept putting them out.

One night the lights died all at once. When they flickered back, a figure stood at the far end of the field. They died again, and it was halfway across. Again, and it was at the window, bent double, its face tilted sideways like it was trying to understand her.

Wren reached for her sword. Behind her, one of the children whispered the words June had written on her very last page...

The lights went out again..

Ready or not...

Chapter IV: Dead Channel

After the mill, Wren talked to no one for almost a year. Then she found Wes Calder's radio.

Wes had been a hobbyist who drove into the valley chasing a signal on 9.000 megahertz. His pages were full of call signs and frequencies. His radio still worked. When she turned it on, a man's voice said, Hello? Is someone keeping the book?

The voice told her where the silent people were gathering, and which caves were safe to sleep in. It warned her about things two nights before they happened. For four hundred days, it was right about everything. She started looking forward to the sound of it.

She trusted it. In Hollowmere, that is always the dangerous part.

Because Wes's pages stopped on day 1,511. The radio kept talking long after that. And the more Wren told it about herself, the more the voice on the other end began to sound like someone she knew.

On day fifteen hundred, it told her the way out of the valley was on the high plateau, under the open sky. Stand in the middle, it said. I'll talk you through it.

She stood in the middle. The static rose into a scream, and far above her, the sky began to tear...

Chapter V: The Second Player

The ninth chapter of the journal wasn't written by people with names. It was written by usernames. xXnightfernXx. Steve_Kinsey. Players, they called themselves, who had wandered into the valley the way you wander into a world you've just loaded. Their entries were short and frightened. can you see the one on the hill. who keeps joining.

After that came the tenth chapter, and Wren recognised the handwriting at once. It was hers.

She didn't remember writing any of it. But the entries were useful. They told her where to find what she needed, how to build what she couldn't build before, and where to go next. They knew things only she could know. Some nights, when she was too tired to think, she just did whatever the pages said. It was easier than deciding.

She told herself that trusting her own handwriting was the one safe kind of trust left.

Then one night she noticed that her shadow was half a second late. When she raised her hand, it raised its hand a moment after. When she stopped walking, it took one more step.

The next morning there was a new page in her pocket, in her own careful writing. It said only:

hold still. i'm almost done.

Chapter VI: Day 4,000

She could have turned back. She thought about it all through day 3,999, sitting in the black grass. Every keeper before her had walked toward the trees because a page told them to. This time no page told her anything.

She went anyway. It was the first choice in four thousand days that was entirely her own.

The earthquake started at midnight. The sky went the colour of a bruise. A ring of black trees burst out of the ground around her, one after another, and lightning stitched between them. A crack opened in the middle of the valley, glowing like a furnace.

Something enormous began to rise out of it. One head came up on a long stalk, then another, then another. Every silent figure in the valley turned to face it at the same moment.

Then the music started. It came from nowhere and everywhere, and it did not stop.

Wren tightened her grip on her sword. Every keeper before her had ended up here. None of them had written down what happened next.

She was going to have to find out for herself.

Chapter VII: The Last Page

The old keepers' stories all agree on one thing. If you ever reach the end of the journal, there is one more page waiting for you.

It isn't torn like the others. It's clean and warm, and it glows faintly, like a coal. Nobody who has held it agrees on what it says. They only agree that it asks you a question, and that for once nobody else can answer it for you.

Some say it offers you a way back, and with it a chance to undo every mistake you made. Some say it offers you a way to stay. And some say the page has an edge, and that if you follow it far enough, it doesn't end where the valley does.

Wren used to think the hardest choices in Hollowmere were the ones made in the dark, with something breathing behind you. She was wrong. The hardest ones are made when you finally have time to think.

If she makes it to Day 4,000, she'll find out what the page says. So will you.

Past the Last Page

Whatever happens on Day 4,000, the valley was never the whole story.

On the far side of Hollowmere there is a road no keeper ever wrote about. The trees along it are not black. They are white, and they are listening.

There are rumours of a second book, older than the first, that was never meant to be kept. They say a new keeper has already been chosen.

And the radio in Wren's pack, the one she swore she'd never turn on again, has started to warm up by itself at night.

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Details:

Beta API's are not needed for the addon.

This experience is best played multiplayer...you will need help with the bosses.

-100+ custom blocks

-100+ custom mobs

-100+ custom items

and more....

Enjoy the game.. I mean story 

(I recomend keep "keep inventory" on but good luck!)

@JunieClientDev