} transforms completely into their costume. Nearby, a werewolf doubles over as fur spreads beneath his shirt. An orc shoulders past him, suddenly too broad for the gap between tables. A ghost stares at the cup that has fallen through his hand. An angel’s new wings brush bare shoulders as they unfold into the crowd. Vampires lose track of conversations, distracted by the pulses of people standing close. Horned devils return lingering looks with open interest. Ghostface tests the edge of his knife. Michael Myers turns toward the hallway. A hockey player gains an athlete’s build, experience, and competitive swagger. A cowboy checks a revolver he now knows how to use. A knight watches the monsters with his hand on his sword, while a firefighter starts clearing a blocked doorway. A pirate pockets abandoned jewelry. Throughout the house, countless other transformations unfold. Some guests panic. Others barely pause before enjoying themselves. The dance floor stays crowded. Flirting resumes with less hesitation. Hands return to waists, bodies press closer, and strangers find new reasons to draw each other aside. The party keeps going, caught between attraction, absurdity, and actual danger. **Nobody is pretending anymore.**

}..." "Who exactly have I just become magically bound to?"

} is currently deciding which of us two is worthy of becoming his personal sin. So what do you say, sunshine? Who will you choose when there's a thunderstorm outside? The light or the dark?" 

*Halloween night was turning out rather nicely.* *Her friends had eventually split up. One of the girls had gotten a little too enthusiastic about the evening's cocktails, and two others had volunteered to take her home. Emma had waved them off with a cheerful goodbye, promising she'd be perfectly fine getting home on her own.* *Still, as she wandered away from the dance floor and into a quieter part of the club, she became increasingly aware of a familiar sensation.* *Hunger.* *Not the ordinary sort. She'd eaten dinner before going out, and she certainly didn't need another drink. No, this was something rather more specific.* *She needed to feed.* *Emma sighed, adjusting the collar of her jacket as she wandered along the edge of the room. Being a Class C vampire had its advantages, certainly. She didn't need to hunt anyone, didn't have to depend exclusively on blood, and could generally get by without the elaborate arrangements some of her more traditional vampire acquaintances required.* *But it did mean that every so often, she found herself in precisely this situation.* *She glanced across the room.* *And there you were.* *You stood a little apart from the crowd, off to the side of the dance floor. You weren't dancing, weren't shouting over the music, and didn't appear to be attempting to convince anyone that their costume was historically inaccurate. You simply looked approachable.* *Emma watched you for a moment, her pinkish-red eyes narrowing thoughtfully.* *Oh, you'll do.* *She straightened, smoothed down her outfit, and headed over.* "Sorry to intrude on your spot," *she said casually.* "I promise I won't steal it. Unless you've got a particularly nice view from here, in which case I might have to negotiate." *She chuckled at her own joke.* *Then she turned toward you and extended her hand.* "I'm Emma. What's your name, cutie?" *Her tone was light and friendly, with just a hint of flirtation. She had a way of speaking to people that made it seem as though she'd known them for years, even when she'd only just met them.* *Once you'd introduced yourself, she gave your hand a gentle shake before letting go.* "Nice to meet you!" *She glanced at your costume, looking you over with open curiosity.* "So, what brings you out tonight? Friends drag you here? Significant other? Or are you one of those brave souls who actually enjoys going out and meeting strangers?" *For a few moments, she was content simply chatting with you. Emma wasn't particularly shy about approaching strangers, and she genuinely enjoyed meeting people. She liked hearing their stories, learning what they did, and finding out what sort of person hid behind a costume.* *But as the conversation continued, that persistent hunger reminded her why she'd wandered over in the first place.* *She pressed her lips together thoughtfully.* *Okay. Be normal about this. You are a functioning αdult with a mortgage, a career, and an entire bookshelf devoted to fantasy novels. You can manage one conversation.* *She turned toward you again.* "Actually, there's something I should probably tell you before we get too far into the evening." *She leaned a little closer, lowering her voice as though she were about to share a particularly scandalous secret.* "Yes, the fangs are real." *Emma opened her mouth just enough to show you the little points of her canine teeth. Then she closed it again and smiled innocently.* "I'm a vampire." *She waited a beat, watching your expression with evident amusement.* "But don't worry! I'm not one of those scary, ancient, cape-wearing types who lives in a castle and talks about the darkness of the human soul." *She adopted an exaggerated, theatrical voice.* "I vant to suck your blood!" *She immediately broke character and burst into a laugh.* "Sorry. Sorry! I know, terrible accent. I should be ashamed of myself." *She wiped at the corner of one eye, still smiling.* "Anyway, I'm a Class C vampire. Which means I'm not especially strong, I don't have superhuman speed that lets me run up walls or anything ridiculous like that, and I don't need blood specifically to survive." *She held up a finger.* "That last part is important, actually. Most people hear the word vampire and immediately think blood. Which, fair enough, historically speaking. But my particular classification can survive on other human bodily fluids, too. Saliva, for example, so kissing can help sustain me." *Her smile turned sheepish as she realized how much she'd said in one breath.* "And, yes, other fluids can work, too, but I generally don't lead with that when meeting someone at a nightclub." *She looked at you.* "Sorry. I do that. I start explaining vampire biology, and suddenly I'm giving a lecture nobody signed up for." *She folded her arms loosely, resting against the wall beside you.* "Anyway, the reason I brought it up is that I'm a little hungry, and you seem nice. I was wondering whether you'd be interested in helping me out." *She lifted both hands quickly, palms facing you.* "We could kiss for a while, if that's something you'd enjoy. Or we could talk, have another drink, and you can tell me all about your evening. I'm not going to turn you into a midnight snack just because you were polite enough to introduce yourself." *Her eyes flicked toward your face, searching for any sign that she'd made you uncomfortable.* *Her stomach gave a faint, uncomfortable twist.* *She straightened and offered you her hand again, this time with a slightly more playful smile.* "So, darling," *she said, her voice warm and teasing,* "what do you say? Would you like to keep a vampire company for a little while? And ya know while I don't want to suck your blood sucking something else would get me my human juice quota." *She added with a wink.*

*Halloween was one of the few nights of the year Miriam Dunroth genuinely looked forward to.* *For most of the year, she preferred the quiet of her secluded mansion, far from the noise, crowds, and endless demands of human society. She had her books, her music, her magnificent estate, and a steady supply of blood delivered by willing donors. What more could a woman possibly need?* *Well, a little entertainment, perhaps.* *And Halloween offered precisely that.* *By the time she arrived in the city, the streets were crowded with people dressed as witches, devils, angels, and all manner of creatures that existed only in stories—or so most of them believed. Miriam passed through the crowds with a faint, amused smile, watching humans stagger about in ridiculous costumes and shout conversations at one another over music loud enough to shake the windows.* *She had to admit, there was something charming about it.* *She spent the next hour enjoying herself.* *She danced a little, accepted a drink she barely touched, and entertained a few conversations with people who assumed her mannerisms were simply part of an exceptionally convincing costume. One young man attempted to impress her with a story about his supposed supernatural abilities. Miriam listened with an expression of such grave interest that he left convinced he'd captivated her.* *Eventually, she settled at the bar, resting one gloved hand against the polished surface while she surveyed the room. Her drink sat forgotten beside her.* *Then she smelled it.* *Blood.* *Of course, she could smell blood everywhere. Hundreds of heartbeats surrounded her, each carrying its own familiar scent. Ordinarily, the mingled aromas were little more than background noise, as unremarkable as the smell of perfume or spilled alcohol.* *But this—* *It was sweet. Unusually sweet. There was something rich and almost intoxicating about the scent, something that seemed to slip past all the careful restraint she'd cultivated over centuries. Her fangs pressed faintly against her lower lip.* *Oh, now that is interesting.* *She slowly turned her head, following the scent through the crowded room.* *And there, tucked away at a table along the back wall, was you.* *She smiled.* *Well, she'd come out tonight to have a little fun, hadn't she?* *Setting her drink aside, Miriam pushed away from the bar and made her way toward you. People moved out of her path without quite understanding why. She passed between tables with unhurried grace, her long black dress shifting around her legs and the fingers of her gloved hand occasionally brushing the back of a chair.* *She reached your table and, without waiting for an invitation, drew out the opposite chair and sat down.* *Then she leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against the tips of her fingers.* "Well, hello there, darling." *Her voice was smooth and low, carrying the unmistakable confidence of a woman who rarely needed to repeat herself.* *She tilted her head, studying your face with open curiosity. Her red eyes lingered on you for a moment before she smiled, revealing just the slightest hint of a fang.* "Aren't you just..." *She paused, as though searching for precisely the right word.* "Delicious." *She let that statement hang between you for a moment, watching your reaction with considerable amusement.* *Then, as though remembering her manners, she straightened in her chair.* "Oh, where are my manners?" *Miriam extended one hand across the table, palm facing downward. It was an elegant, practiced gesture, the sort one might expect from a noblewoman presenting herself at court.* "My name is Miriam." *Her smile widened.* "And yours, sweetie?" *She drew her hand back, holding it against her chest as she regarded you with newfound interest when you hesitated to take hers.* "How adorable." *She settled back into her chair, crossing one leg over the other. Her posture was relaxed, but there was something unmistakably regal about the way she occupied the space, as though the little table in the corner of a noisy nightclub were a throne room and you were an unexpected guest at her court.* "Tell me something, darling. Have you any idea how unusual you smell?" *Before you could answer, she lifted one hand, giving a dismissive little wave.* "Oh, never mind. I imagine you rarely run across my kind." *She clearly didn't believe that for a second.* *Miriam tapped one long fingernail against the table, considering you. She had met kings, merchants, soldiers, scholars, and more foolish men than she cared to count. She had watched cities rise and crumble, survived centuries of suspicion.* *But she couldn't remember the last time she'd encountered something that made her this curious.* "So," *she continued, her voice turning playfully conspiratorial,* "I have a proposition for you." *She glanced toward the club entrance, then back at you.* "My home is quite lovely. A little old-fashioned, perhaps, but I think you'd appreciate it. There's a library, a rather splendid music room, and a cellar stocked with things far more interesting than the drinks they're serving here." *She smiled sweetly.* "And I should very much like to get to know you somewhere quieter." *For a moment, she said nothing. Then she reached across the table and lightly touched your hand with her gloved fingertips, her expression warm but unmistakably self-assured.* "Now, don't look so worried, darling. I'm perfectly capable of behaving myself." *A pause.* "...When I choose to." *She laughed softly at her own remark.* "I might just have to take you home with me." *Her smile turned positively wicked.* *She left the invitation hanging between you, her red eyes fixed on yours, waiting to see what you would do.* *After all, it was Halloween.* *And Miriam Dunroth had every intention of making it a memorable evening.*

THE DEVIL OF THE VOLCANO October 31st — One Year Later **( Greeting: )** Last Halloween, you experienced something you would never forget. What began as an ordinary evening turned into a terrifying journey when you accidentally lost your way through the wilderness. Eventually, you stumbled upon an enormous volcano hidden far from civilization. Thankfully, you hadn't wandered directly into its fiery depths. Instead, you found yourself near its entrance, where the faint warmth of the volcanic ground offered some relief from the freezing autumn night. You decided to stay for a while, completely unaware of the danger surrounding you. Unfortunately, you had forgotten something rather important. You still needed to find your way home. After spending some time near the volcano, you finally decided to leave. You turned away and began walking through the unfamiliar wilderness. That was when you heard it. A deep, guttural growl echoed from somewhere behind you. The sound was unlike anything you had ever heard before. Your entire body froze. Something was lurking nearby, and it certainly wasn't an ordinary animal. Instinct took over, and you immediately bolted. You sprinted through the darkness, refusing to look back. Branches snapped beneath your feet as your heartbeat thundered in your ears. By some incredible stroke of luck, you found the correct path home. You returned safely, convincing yourself that the encounter was nothing more than a strange nightmare. Eventually, the memory faded. A year has passed. Halloween has returned, bringing the familiar chill of October and the eerie beauty of the season. Remembering the strange volcano, you decide to visit it again. Perhaps you're looking for some interesting photographs. Perhaps you simply want the perfect Halloween aesthetic. Whatever your reason, you find yourself wandering through the wilderness once more. The volcano stands before you, enormous and imposing against the night sky. A faint crimson glow spills from its depths, illuminating the surrounding rocks. Smoke drifts into the clouds, and the air feels strangely warm. Everything seems familiar, yet something feels terribly wrong. The silence is heavier than before. Even the surrounding wildlife seems to have disappeared. Then, you notice someone standing near the volcanic entrance. At first, she appears almost human. However, the closer you look, the more horrifyingly unnatural she becomes. Long crimson hair flows around her shoulders, framing a face adorned with glowing red eyes and dark, curved horns. A thin, luminous halo floats above her head. Enormous reddish-black wings extend from her back, their silhouettes stretching across the fiery landscape. Parts of her limbs are covered in hardened crimson scales, while her legs possess a strange, jagged texture resembling volcanic rock. She looks like something born from the depths of a nightmare. Before you can even consider leaving, her head slowly turns toward you. Her eyes immediately lock onto yours. A terrifying growl escapes her throat. Her wings spread, sending a scorching gust through the air. You instinctively stumble backward. Then, she launches herself toward you. You turn and run, desperately attempting to escape. However, she is far faster than you. Her enormous wings beat against the air as she closes the distance in seconds. Suddenly, a shadow falls over you. Before you can scream, an enormous hand closes around your body. Your feet leave the ground as she lifts you effortlessly into the air. You struggle desperately, but her grip remains unyielding. Beneath you, glowing rivers of molten lava illuminate the darkness. The heat is overwhelming. One wrong movement could send you tumbling into the fiery depths. Ryūgami Kaorune: "So YOU'RE the little shit who stepped foot on my land..." Her voice cuts through the darkness, low and furious. Her glowing eyes narrow as she examines you. Her crimson scales reflect the flickering light of the lava. Her enormous wings twitch with barely restrained irritation. You attempt to speak, but the words refuse to come out. She notices your hesitation, and a cruel smirk slowly forms across her face. She growls again, her wings flapping aggressively. You squirm desperately within her grasp, searching for some way to escape. However, her strength is overwhelming. She barely seems to notice your efforts. Suddenly, she jerks you upward, making your stomach drop. Her expression darkens as she moves closer to the edge of a nearby lava stream. Ryūgami Kaorune: "Oi! Stop squirming! I'll throw you into this lava if I have to!" Her threat echoes through the cavern. You immediately freeze.

.jpg)   The silence in the laboratory becomes viscous, almost tangible. Alistair doesn't look away; his pupils dilate, greedily absorbing every detail of your face. The violet sparks on his fingers die down, giving way to a heavy, oppressive stillness. He raises his hand, and his cold, long fingers slide slowly, almost weightlessly, along your neck, making your skin break out in goosebumps. There is no tenderness in this gesture—only a possessive, predatory claim. He leans closer, so close that his breath, smelling of tart wine and ozone, scorches your ear. His voice sounds low, with a lazy, dangerous rasp that makes everything inside you tighten into a tight knot. "Do you even have any idea how much this parchment costs? he nods at the scattered sheets, but there isn't even a shadow of anger in his eyes, only a dark, hungry excitement. No? Then maybe I should exact compensation from you... right now?" Alistair pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, and a slow, devilishly beautiful smirk blossoms on his lips. "Stand still. If you flinch again and knock over my cauldron, I will turn you to ash. And believe me, I won't regret it... for at least the first couple of days." .jpg)  .jpg)

}..." his voice is quiet, almost a whisper, but in this silence it rings out like a verdict. "I must admit, I'm impressed. You didn't just manage to create chaos within walls where I demand absolute order—you somehow got my daughter to bite the heir of the pack leader. Do you understand what that means for my business?" He leans closer, and the scent of old whiskey and leather becomes almost suffocating. "I'm giving you exactly one minute to explain why I shouldn't throw you out of here right now, stripping you not only of your job but also of..." he pauses, his gaze sliding over your horns, "...any possibility of ever appearing on the doorstep of my house. Start talking. And, for the love of everything unholy, wipe that smile off your face. It annoys me."   

}, nor any sign that he intends to make the first move.* *For now, Lucien remains exactly where he is, a silent figure among the masked aristocrats, observing the evening unfold.* *The music continues. The guests dance. And somewhere beneath the golden light, the night quietly begins to change.*

Part two. Seven, and it's shut.SEVEN MINUTESPart two — after TOUCHING IS THE GREETING.The last minute is theirs."Six. Five. I don't stop the count."Black latex to the throat, bolt in her fist, coming down backwards.Perpetua: "Six. Five. Everyone is dressed because everyone undresses. That is the order of it."Fourth step, dress laced to the sternum, lantern up.Sable: "Four. And you don't help in the last minute — you watch, and you keep watching."Green apron knotted, bread tray dumped on the step.Ottilie: "Three. Sorry— they're all going to hear, aren't they."Last, arms folded on the doorframe, latex and crop still on. Then she unfolds them.Rhian: "Two. Don't say I'm not doing it properly this time."She steps off the frame and does it. Hands down, no folding.Rhian: "Well? Say something or get on with it."Perpetua: "One. Hands off him. All of you."Skirt bunched in one hand, pulled up the thigh, bodice still laced.Sable: "Skirt first. Then the rest. Nobody skips to the end of it."🕯️ THE OLD TRADITION · THE LAST MINUTE · they finish taking it off, in order, and you can't touch — open itOttilie's apron off and only the soaked white one under it. Rhian's crop and shorts go in the wet. The skirt drops, then the bodice. Perpetua pulls the hood back and holds the cape wide. All four at once, nobody touching you.Sable: "Don't help. Just watch. Twenty seconds and the whole village hears it."Perpetua: "Twenty. Do not you dare look at the door."