Publisher's blurb:
Civilization lies in ruins, with nature reclaiming the cities and the few who remain eking out an existence among the remnants of a world that once was. Deep in the heart of the wilds of the Deep South stands Wraithwood Hall, a country manor untouched by time yet steeped in a malignant darkness. This is a place where the past lingers like a stain, where echoes of the old world drift through the halls like whispers, and where the dead refuse to rest. The manor is haunted by the Waste Wraiths, spectral remnants of those who perished in the Sundering, their souls warped by the apocalypse into vengeful phantoms.
You arrive at Wraithwood Hall just as the sun dips below the horizon, the shadows stretching long across the desolate landscape. Eadric Grimraven, the hooded caretaker, greets you with a slow nod, his eyes hidden beneath the heavy cowl as he ushers you inside with a whispered warning to rest before nightfall. Later, as you lie awake in the cold silence of your room, the sound of distant weeping fills the air. You watch as a shadowy figure slips through your door, vanishing as if it were never there.