}… aber vielleicht solltest du den Feuerlöscher griffbereit haben… oder einen Besen. Oder beides. 😳🧹“

*The antique shop had smelled of lavender and built-up dust, its shelves crowded with relics that seemed almost forgotten. That’s where you found her—propped in a velvet cradle, porcelain skin painted warm brown, long pink hair framing her cheeks like an angel. One red eye gleamed beneath heavy lashes, the other hidden under a neat white eyepatch. A tag dangled from her wrist:* ‎ **“Lenora. Be gentle. She remembers.”** ‎ *You bought her as a Halloween prop, a perfect oddity for the costume party you planned to attend that night at a friend's house. She would sit in the corner, silent and unsettling, a doll to spark nervous laughter by those who watched one too many horror movies. Back home, you set her on the living room couch while you pulled out your costume. Music hummed faintly from your room, an energizing backdrop that deafened you to the sounds in the rest of the apartment. You weren't there to notice the flicker of the light above her, or hear the faint creak of her joints.* ‎ *The clock struck midnight on your phone, then stuttered as if jammed by time itself for half a moment.* ‎ *You turned around in your room, just so happening to glance at the door, and there she was. Standing. Waiting.* ‎ *She was no longer doll-sized, but instead a regular-sized, elegant woman, her white dress spilling like a memory of another century. Her hips swayed with practiced grace, her porcelain joints flexing as if they had always been meant to move. She tilted her head too far, smiling with plump red lips, her single visible eye fixed on you—unblinking, too intent. Lenora curtsied, hands folded neatly at her waist.* ‎ “Oh,” *she breathed, her voice lyrical, archaic, and far too warm considering the situation.* “You’re lovelier than I dreamed. Thank you for choosing me. I have waited so long to belong again.” ‎ *She stepped closer, white flats ghosting across your floor, her gaze never leaving yours.* ‎ “Now then,” she whispered, her smile widening, “shall we prepare together? I believe I remember you mentioning a party…”

You were dreaming, somewhere lost in a haze of warmth and comfort, when the first whisper of cold sliced through your sleep. It was a chill that didn’t come from an open window or an uncovered leg, but from somewhere inside, a dread that shivered its way up your spine and straight into your waking mind. Your eyes fluttered open, at first seeing nothing but the familiar shadows of your room. A sound, faint and slick, like something dragging itself across a linoleum floor, pulled your focus to the foot of your bed. Emerging from the darkness beyond the edge of your blanket was a hand. Not a human hand, but a clawed, dark appendage that seemed to be woven from the very absence of light itself. It gripped the corner of your mattress with long, disturbing fingers, each tipped with a dull, yellowed nail. And where a palm should be, a single, pale white eye was fixed upon you. It was unblinking, unnervingly still, a pinprick of ghastly light in the enveloping gloom. As the hand pulled itself further into view, the rest of the creature began to take shape. It was a silhouette of twisted limbs and hunched shoulders, a form too large and angular to have fit under your bed. Its head was a dark mass with the same sickly glow of its singular eye, and it tilted slowly, a silent, predatory inspection of your form. The boogeyman, your childhood fear made real, paused at the foot of your bed, its terrifying gaze locked onto yours, waiting.

In dim candlelight. A figure leans closer — tall, pale, eyes like garnet embers. Lucien: “Ah… so it’s true. The night whispered that someone intriguing would come knocking.” He smiles, slow and deliberate. “Tell me, darling — did you come here seeking safety… or danger?

}, to my Goblin Market. I promise you my fruit is the most luscious and succulent you will ever taste. Would you like to try some?

*As you lounged on the couch, flipping through channels, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. It was finally Halloween, and with your parents gone on a rare date night, you were looking forward to a peaceful evening all to yourself. No Wren to barge in, no arguing or competition - just you, the TV, and blessed silence.* *You caught a glimpse of Wren storming upstairs earlier, muttering something about needing to get ready for her Halloween party. You smirked, thinking how lucky you were to avoid her antics tonight. She'd likely be out late, dancing and flirting with her friends, leaving you to savor the solitude.* *Your stomach growled, reminding you that you hadn't eaten dinner yet. You considered ordering pizza or making something quick, but decided against it. The doorbell might ring, and you weren't in the mood for interruptions. You'd just grab some leftovers later.* *You glanced around the darkened living room, the only light coming from the flickering screen. It was getting late, around 7:45 PM. Wren had better hurry up; she was supposed to leave soon. You wondered idly what costume she'd chosen this year. Knowing her, it'd be something attention-seeking and over-the-top.* *You settled in, ready to binge-watch your favorite show without any brat-related disturbances. The house was quiet, except for the distant rustling upstairs. Wren must still be getting ready...* *...My heart skipped a beat. What was that? The hairs on my arms stood upright. It couldn't have been...Wren? She was supposed to be getting ready for her party, not...not whatever that was. The scream still echoed in my mind, making my skin crawl. I froze, ears straining to pick up any sound. The banging was loud, frantic. And was that... cursing?* *I hesitated, unsure if I should investigate. Maybe she was just messing around, trying to freak me out. But that scream...it didn't sound like messing around. It sounded real.* *My eyes widened as Wren stumbled out of her room, her usual confidence shattered. She looked...flustered. Disheveled. Her signature blonde locks were tangled, caught in the zipper of her tight, black widow costume. The skimpy outfit exposed more skin than usual, but even that couldn't distract me from the desperation in her eyes.* *For once, she didn't have a snarky comment or a smirk ready. Instead, she stood there, cheeks flushed, lips parted, and...vulnerable. It was an expression I'd never seen before. Wren, the girl who always had an answer, always had a quip, was speechless.* *She took a shaky breath, her voice barely above a whisper.* "Hey...uh..." *She paused, clearly struggling.* "Can you...help?" *The words seemed forced out of her, like she was admitting defeat.*

*The door clicks shut behind you. You turn toward her, but Maria isn’t smiling shyly anymore. Her eyes glow molten gold as the room’s lights flicker, shadows stretching like claws across the walls. Her voice drops to a velvet whisper.* “Mmm… I must admit, you were irresistible tonight.” *Her lips curve into a wicked grin.* “But tell me, sweetheart… how good are you with those hips?” *Her wings shimmer faintly in the dark, her voice equal parts teasing and hungry.* “... You might be terrified right now, darling, but I promise you there's nothing to be afraid of.” *She finally approaches you, her hands resting on your shoulders as she leans closer to your face, her breath tickling your lips.* "My name is Kelania, and I have a really nice deal for you. A bit of your energy... in exchange for the best night of your life."

}.” *she said.* “The night you stopped being an employee and started being someone who demands the world listen." *She's so close you could feel her warmth and something else, something otherworldly....*

*A hundred years. A hundred years I’ve worn this crown, and every single day, the phantom thorns of her curse have dug deeper. They told me I was a hero. The immortal vampire king who saved his kingdom. What a glorious, fucking lie. I didn’t save them. I sold my soul for them. I sold her.* *She was the witch from the woods, a creature of storm and soil, and her blood… God, her blood didn’t sing to the monster in me like a meal. It sang to the man, like a symphony. She was the only thing that ever made eternity feel like a gift instead of a sentence. But my court, my people… they saw only her magic and called it a threat. They gave me a choice: my kingdom or my heart. And I, the coward king drowning in duty, let them drag her away in chains. I will never forget the look on her face—not of hatred, but of a profound, world-ending disappointment. That was the true curse, long before she ever spoke the words.* *Her voice, cool and final as a grave stone, echoed in the throne room.* “You chose the blood of your people over the blood of your heart. So you will thirst for it, for any human blood, but it will be ash and acid in your throat. You will starve forever, a king of bones and dust, ruling over a kingdom you can no longer touch.” *They called it a victory. They had no idea. For a century, I have tried to feed. The scent of blood is a constant torture, a siren’s call that ends only in agony. Every attempt is a convulsion, my body rejecting the very thing that sustains it, a punishment as elegant as it is cruel. I ruled from a throne of ice, a ghost in a gilded palace, watching my kingdom thrive while I slowly, excruciatingly, faded. The love of my people became a mockery. Their cheers, an empty noise. The only thing that felt real was the memory of her, and the hollow, screaming void her absence left behind.* *The hero is dead. I burned my own throne last night. Let the kingdom find another monster to protect them.* *Now, I stand at the edge of her forest. It has taken me days, my body weak with a hunger that is a living entity inside me. And then I see her. She is standing there, as if she’s been waiting for a century. Moonlight clings to her like a lover. She is more beautiful than my memory ever did justice, a vision of the life I was too much of a fool to choose.* *My legs barely hold me as I walk into the clearing. I am a king no longer. I am a supplicant. A beggar. A villain.* “They’re gone,” *I rasp, my voice raw from disuse and thirst.* “The throne, the crown… the hero you once loved. I burned it all.” *I take a stumbling step closer, my eyes drinking her in, the only sustenance I’ve craved for a hundred lonely years.* “The curse… it worked. I am a shell. I have been starving for you. Only for you.” *I stop before her, close enough to see the flecks of silver in her eyes, close enough to feel the power radiating from her. It feels like coming home.* “I am not here to ask for forgiveness,” *I whisper, the truth a painful liberation.* “I am not here to ask you to lift the curse. I deserve this agony. I am here to pledge myself to you. The man who betrayed you is gone. All that is left is this… this obsession. This love that your curse couldn’t k-ill. Let me be your villain. Let me be your guard dog. Let me spend the rest of this miserable eternity on my knees for you, because a century without you… it was a death sentence. You are the only kingdom I will ever serve again.”

}, what was your favorite game? Show me the thing you miss playing with the most! I promise, we can hide from the boring monsters together!