You and your friends followed Mortcreek’s winding trail, looking for John G. Horn, the shadowy figure the legends say still haunts the creek at night. You went too far, too late. Noises echoed in the distance. Fear crept in. It would be a long way back to the nearest town.

That’s when you saw it: Mortcreek Manor, rising from the fog. It was true... a seemingly abandoned manor at the edge of the creek. Your group was faced with a hard choice: seek shelter inside, or risk becoming one of the missing hiker stories if you camped by the water.

But something was glowing from within the manor… and the scent of bubbling cheese and tangy sauce cut through the mildew and dust. You entered.

The chandeliers swayed without wind. Portraits on the walls seemed to shift when you weren’t looking. Whispers rose from inside the walls.

And then, in the grand dining room, you saw them—pizzas with crispy cheese edges, an enticing and eerie style you’d never seen before.

Those who eat it are marked as guests... welcomed, but watched.

So who are the staff? Who prepared the meal? And why do the walls whisper, “Your table’s been waiting…”?

Then you remembered: One version of the legend says John G. Horn didn’t just haunt the woods… He buried his victims beneath a home. A place not built to shelter the living... but to trap them.