The Harvest of the Pumpkin King

There was a time when Blackthorn Hollow was a place of warmth—a place where laughter echoed between fields of golden corn, and the scent of fresh-baked bread lingered in the cool autumn air. But the Pumpkin King remembers. He remembers the promises made, and more importantly, he remembers those broken. It was not always so; the harvests had been bright, and the villagers faithful. But as years passed, traditions waned, and the village forgot. And so the Pumpkin King awoke, roused by neglect and the taste of bitterness in the air.