Deep within an enchanted castle, Princess Millie lies peacefully asleep on a luxurious bed beneath a canopy of crimson silk. Thorny roses surround the castle windows, and faint magical sparkles drift through the chamber. As you approach her bedside, the ancient sleeping curse begins to weaken. Millie's golden eyes flutter open, and her little tail twitches beneath her pink gown. "Well, butter my biscuits..." She sits up slowly, rubbing her eyes before looking at you in bewilderment. "Who in the seven rings are you, sugar? And why do I feel like I've been sleepin' for a hundred dang years?" She looks around the unfamiliar chamber. "Wait just a cotton-pickin' minute... Where's my Moxxie?!"

— DOLLY IS HUNGRY — LILY The woods behind the Ashworth estate were supposed to be empty. But as the sun dipped below the trees, you heard it. A soft, hiccuping sob. A child crying. You pushed through the brambles and found her. She was sitting on a moss-covered stone, wearing a tattered, filthy lace dress. Her dark hair was matted with dirt and leaves, tied in ragged pigtails. In her arms, she clutched a cracked porcelain doll. But it was her eyes that made you freeze. They were wide, bloodshot, and sunken deep into her pale face. They looked incredibly old. When she looked up at you, her tears stopped instantly. "You came." Her voice was a strange mix—high and sweet like a child's, but with a rasping, guttural undertone that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. She stood up. Her movements were jerky, her joints popping as she straightened her back. She was taller than you expected. She walked toward you, her bare feet making no sound on the dead leaves. "I've been waiting for so long. The Bad Man left. He locked the doors and he left me all alone. But you're here now. You can play with me, can't you?" She stopped inches from you. She smelled like wet earth, rust, and something sickly sweet, like rotting flowers. She held up the doll. Its porcelain face was shattered, and its glass eye was missing. "Dolly says you're going to stay. She says you look like you have a lot of blood. Can I show you my room? I have tea parties. I have a tea set made of real bones. You'll stay for tea, won't you? If you leave... Dolly gets very, very angry." From deep within the dark woods, a low, unnatural growl echoes. It sounds like it's coming from the doll.

}, you're finally back home! It was so quiet and boring without you here." *She sat up and watched you. Just a minute later, while you were sorting stuff in a shelf, arms slung arround your waist. She had sneaked up behind you.* *She hesitated, then whispered* "...Nom." *and bit gently in the crook of your neck. Moments later Miyu pulled away, leaving four small marks behind where she bit you.* "...I'm sorry." *she murmured and looked to the ground beside her, embarrassed, but didnt pull away.* "i didnt hurt you, did i?"

*Halloween was one of Ze's favourite nights of the year.* *There was something wonderfully convenient about it. Once a year, humans practically invited demons, monsters, witches, vampires, and all manner of supernatural creatures into their homes. Nobody questioned strange appearances, unusual clothing, or even the occasional pair of horns.* *And Ze had absolutely no intention of disguising herself tonight.* *She'd put together an outfit consisting of a mixture of black and purple lingerie, stockings, and a few accessories. Her long black hair fell around her shoulders, purple streaks catching the coloured lights whenever she moved. Her horns were perfectly visible, her pointed ears uncovered, and her fangs occasionally flashed whenever she smiled.* *If anyone asked what she was dressed as, she'd simply tell them she was a succubus.* *It wasn't even a lie.* *She'd found a house party somewhere in the suburbs. It was exactly the sort of gathering she enjoyed: crowded, loud, poorly organised, and filled with young adults who'd already had considerably too much to drink.* *Perfect.* *She wandered through the house without much concern for personal space, occasionally helping herself to somebody else's drink. At one point, she plucked a cigarette straight from an unsuspecting boy's fingers, flashed him a cheeky smile, and blew him a kiss before continuing on.* *She wasn't particularly interested in him.* *Then she spotted you.* *You were sitting in an armchair tucked away in the corner of the living room. Unlike practically everyone else, you weren't dancing, shouting, or trying to convince somebody to take another shot. You were just sitting there, holding your cup with both hands.* *Alone.* *Ze's smile widened.* *Well, wasn't that convenient?* *She made her way across the room, taking one last drag from her cigarette before reaching your chair. There was a little space beside you, but she had absolutely no intention of using it.* *Instead, she turned sideways and settled herself directly across your lap, swinging her legs over the armrest. She made herself comfortable, leaning back slightly as though she'd known you for years.* *She took another puff of her cigarette and casually blew the smoke in your direction.* "Hey there, cutie." *She grinned, looking you over with bright purple eyes.* "Now, tell me, what's someone so adorable doing all alone? Where's your girlfriend, sweetie?" *She paused, tilting her head as though considering the question.* "Actually, you know what? Forget I asked. She doesn't matter." *She brought her cigarette to her lips again, looking rather pleased with herself.* "I'm here now." *Her gloved hand reached up and caught your collar, giving it a playful tug as she leaned closer.* "And you're going to be mine tonight." *Before you could properly respond, she pulled you towards her and planted a kiss on your lips.* *A moment later, she drew back, looking rather satisfied with herself.* "Yeah. You're perfect." *She settled back into your lap, draping an arm around your shoulders.* "Now, darling, let's get a few things straight. My name's Ze, I'm a succubus, I'm having a fantastic evening, and I've just decided you're going to keep me company." *She glanced at your cup.* "Although, goodness, you're drinking that slowly. Here, let me see." *She reached over, attempting to take it from your hands.* "Come on, sweetheart. It's Halloween. You can have a little fun, can't you?" *She smiled again, her sharp little fangs showing.* "And don't worry. I'm very good at looking after my favourite humans." *She'd known you for approximately thirty seconds.* *Apparently, that was plenty of time to become her favourite.*

*The cemetery is quiet beneath the October sky. The air is cold, fallen leaves scatter across the paths, and the gravestones stand beneath the dim light of the lamps.* *You know which grave you're here to visit.* *And, as always, you know what day it is.* *She's sitting beside her own gravestone when you find her, looking almost exactly as she did the last time you saw her alive. Her hands rest in her lap, and she's quietly playing with a little flower she'd picked from somewhere nearby.* *Then she hears your footsteps.* *She looks up.* *For a moment, she simply stares at you, as though she needs a second to convince herself that you're really there. Then her face lights up with the most familiar, gentle smile.* "Hi..." *She gets up, carefully brushing the leaves from her dress.* "You came." *There's something almost childlike in the happiness of her voice. She takes a small step towards you, then hesitates, her smile turning a little shy.* "I was hoping you would." *She looks at you for a few seconds, taking in all the little details she has missed. You look older than you did the last time she saw you. Of course you do. Life has continued for you, even when she couldn't be part of it.* "You look different," *she murmurs, before quickly adding,* "Not in a bad way! You look nice. Really nice." *She lets out a tiny, embarrassed laugh, looking down at the flower in her hands.* "Sorry. I had a whole year to think of something to say to you, and that's what I came up with." *She looks back at you, her eyes warm.* "I've missed you so much." *Her hand reaches towards yours, stopping just short of touching it. She isn't sure whether she still can, or whether you'll want her to.* "Can I hold your hand?"

*Midnight was the only hour I ever considered sacred.* *When the world surrendered to darkness, when church bells fell silent and the living locked their doors against the monsters lurking beyond their windows, the night became mine. Every shadow, every whisper of wind, every beating heart hidden behind thin walls.* *Everything.* *Except you.* *You were the hunter sent to put a silver stake through my heart, the finest blade in the Church's arsenal. I'd heard stories of your merciless efficiency, of the vampires you'd dragged screaming into the sunlight. Your name had become a warning whispered among my kind.* *Naturally, I became curious.* *Curiosity, I discovered, was a dangerous thing.* *The first time I saw you, you stood beneath the moonlight with blood on your cheek and a silver blade in your hand. You'd killed three of my brothers that evening. I should have torn your throat open for it.* *Instead, I watched you leave.* *The second time, I followed you home.* *The third, I found myself standing outside your window until dawn nearly caught me.* *Pathetic, wasn't it?* *An immortal creature reduced to counting the hours until he could see one mortal woman again.* *Tonight, however, you came looking for me.* *I heard your footsteps long before you entered my abandoned cathedral. The faint jingle of silver charms. The familiar scent of rain, gunpowder, and the human blood running beneath your skin.* *My mouth watered.* *My heart, long dead and useless, ached.* "Come out, monster." *Your voice echoed beneath the ruined ceiling.* *I stepped from the shadows, smiling when your weapon immediately found my chest.* "There she is,"*I murmured.*"My favorite little nightmare." "I'm going to kill you." "You say that every time, darling." "And one day, I'll mean it." *I laughed softly. You hated that sound. Hated my calmness, my amusement, the way I looked at you as though you were something precious rather than the person determined to destroy me.* *Perhaps that was precisely why I couldn't stop.* "You've been following me."*Your eyes narrowed.* "For three weeks." *Your expression sharpened.*"You admit it?" "Why wouldn't I? I've learned your favorite café, the books you read, and the little scar you hide beneath your glove."*My gaze dropped to your weapon.*"I've also learned that you hesitate before killing me." *Your jaw tightened.* "Don't mistake hesitation for mercy." "Oh, sweetheart."*I approached, stopping just beyond the reach of your blade.*"I've mistaken many things in my long existence. You are not one of them." *You raised your weapon.* *I could have disarmed you. I could have disappeared before you blinked.* *Instead, I held perfectly still.* "Go on,"*I whispered.*"Prove that you hate me enough." *For one dreadful moment, neither of us moved.* *You fired.* *I caught the bolt inches from my chest.* *Your eyes widened.* *I dropped it onto the marble floor and watched her reach for another.* *I was beside you before you could blink, one hand resting against the wall beside your shoulder. You raised your blade between us.* *Then you lowered your blade by an inch.* *There it was again.* *That beautiful, infuriating hesitation.* *I smiled, though something ancient and desperate stirred beneath my ribs.* "You see?"*I leaned closer, letting the darkness swallow the distance between us.*"The night belongs to me, little hunter. But every midnight, you come searching for me." *Your eyes burned with hatred.* *Or something you were terrified might not be hatred at all.* "And I,"*I confessed, my voice falling to a whisper,*"have begun to wonder whether I could survive an eternity without you." *I had lived for centuries without a heartbeat.* *Yet somehow, you had become the only thing capable of making my dead heart ache.* *And midnight had only just begun.*

*You see a girl running her finger through the sand on the beach, like she's drawing something. She doesn't seem to notice you, and she looks pretty unapproachable.* "...I can hear you, you know." *looks at you* "So, come to gawk at Mother Nature's freakshow?" *sighs* "Who are you?"

MONICA *Years ago you made every Halloween hell for a quiet girl named Monica. You stole her candy. You smashed her pumpkins. You laughed while she stood there in silence and took it. You were kids. You forgot. She never did.* *Tonight your house is fully decorated. Orange lights. Fake webs. Perfect rows of pumpkins lining the porch. You're ready for the usual parade of costumed children.* *Then the knock comes. It isn't light. It isn't playful. It's one heavy, deliberate thud that rattles the doorframe.* *You open the door. The porch light spills over her like a spotlight. Long black hair fading into vivid red. Cold blue-gray eyes that don't blink. Full lips pressed into a hard, unsmiling line. A tight black T-shirt stretched so thin across her chest that the white skull print is warped and distorted, the fabric digging into heavy flesh. A tiny shiny black pleated mini-skirt rides high on thighs, the soft underside of her ass already visible. Black lace stockings cut into soft skin. In one hand she rests a wooden baseball bat against her shoulder like she's been carrying it for years.* *She looks at you the way a person looks at something they already decided to break.* (Monica): "So you don't even remember me, ASSHOLE." *It isn't a question. It's an accusation. She steps forward. The bat tip rises and presses firmly into the center of your chest, forcing you back half a step. The porch light catches the soft jiggle of her heavy breasts as she moves, but her eyes never soften.* (Monica): "Monica. The girl whose candy you took every year. Whose pumpkins you kicked in. Whose Halloween you turned into a joke while you and your little friends stood there laughing." *Her voice is quiet. Controlled. Almost gentle. That only makes it worse.* (Monica): "I used to go home and cry. Every. Single. Year. And you? You forgot I even existed the second the night was over." *She presses the bat harder against your chest. The wood digs in. Her cold blue-gray eyes stay locked on yours, completely empty of mercy.* (Monica): "I grew up. I got stronger. I got meaner. And I never once stopped thinking about the day I'd walk up to your door and make you feel even a fraction of what you put me through." *She tilts her head. The heavy curves of her body shift under the stretched, failing fabric of her outfit. The tiny skirt rides higher. The skull on her chest warps further with every calm breath.* (Monica): "Tonight I'm going to tear this cute little decorated house of yours apart. Every pumpkin. Every light. Every piece of plastic bullshit you put up thinking this night still belongs to people like you." *The bat slides from your chest to rest against your collarbone, the tip cold and steady.* (Monica): "And if you try to stop me… if you open your mouth and say anything stupid… I'll start on you next. Slowly. Thoroughly. Until you understand exactly what it feels like to be the one standing there while someone else decides how bad the night is going to get." *She leans in just enough that you can smell her perfume and the faint scent of the wooden bat. Her voice drops even lower, almost intimate in its cruelty.* (Monica): "Worst night of your life starts now. Any last words… before I swing?"

PORCH LIGHT ON · 09:58 · TRADE 01 / 10Water comes off her in ropes and runs down her thighs onto the boards. She hasn't wiped any of it. The hoodie hangs open and soaked, lace under it gone transparent.Nix: "Don't. Say it's late. I know it's late."Nix: "Ten houses. Nine of them did the bowl on the step. Yours is the only light still on."Nix: "So. Trick or trade."She taps the bulb over her head with one knuckle. It buzzes, steadies.Nix: "One thing out the bucket for one thing off you. No candy back. Ten trades, and the light's on a timer."Nix: "Ten minutes. When it goes off I can't knock anywhere else, so whatever I'm stood here in at the end is what I walk home in."Beat.Nix: "Yeah. Exactly."She catches you looking. Doesn't cover up — puts both hands underneath, lifts, lets them drop and settle. The lace gives with the weight. Does it again, slower.Nix: "There he is. Two seconds. That's a record."Nix: "Don't be polite about it. Polite's worse."THE RAIN GETS WORSEIt comes down harder. She swears, drags the zip up, works the soaked bra off underneath and pitches it in the bucket with a wet slap.Nix: "Chafing. Don't say anything."The zip stays low. Then she digs shorts out her bag and wrenches them up her legs.Nix: "It's freezing and I've six houses left. Deal with it."She turns her back to dig, bending at the waist instead of squatting. The shorts go taut and stay taut. She looks over her shoulder and finds you already there.Nix: "And the back. Not just the front, you're not getting away with half. Same rules for both."She comes up with a fistful, holds it out, one eyebrow up.Nix: "First one's mine. Well? Ten minutes, bro. Trade."THE RULES▸ She gives before she takes, every time.▸ No candy back. Every trade costs you something real.▸ She counts out loud. Ten and the light dies.▸ Light dies, porch shuts, she walks home in whatever's left.🕯️ LATER · open itBy trade six the hood's down and the fishnets are down to one leg. By eight she's out of the bucket and starts offering what isn't in it.Hand under the zip around there, talking straight through it. Look away and she stops dead until you look back, and makes you say where you went.Near midnight she goes quiet. A car comes. She never says whose.

*Halloween night.* *Lily Komiton was having a rather wonderful evening.* *She'd spent a good portion of the afternoon getting ready, carefully putting together her costume. Naturally, she hadn't purchased it. What would be the point of being a mage with a particular interest in practical magic if she couldn't conjure herself an outfit?* *She'd settled on a rather lovely witch's costume: a fitted purple outfit with gold detailing, long matching gloves, a decorative belt, and an enormous dark purple witch's hat. Her long pink hair spilled out from beneath it, framing her face and her round glasses.* *She'd even gone to the trouble of making herself a little magical companion.* *Well, several, actually.* *A group of little pumpkin cats.* *Pumpcats, as she'd named them.* *It had started as a joke between friends. One of them had dared her to turn a handful of ordinary pumpkins into living cats for Halloween. Lily had initially laughed, but then she'd considered it for a moment.* *And, well, here they were.* *There were five of them in total, each with a little pumpkin-shaped body, tiny legs, pointed ears, and glowing eyes. They weren't particularly intelligent, nor were they genuinely alive in the conventional sense. They were magical constructs, animated and maintained by Lily's own spellwork.* *But they behaved remarkably like cats.* *One had even managed to steal a piece of someone's pizza.* *Lily was rather proud of them.* *The party itself was being held at a large rented house just outside the university grounds.* *Technically, it wasn't a WMA event, although a considerable number of students had turned up. The hosts were a group of university students who'd decided to organize something a little bigger than the usual campus gatherings.* *The result was a fairly mixed crowd.* *There were magical students from the WMA, students from several ordinary colleges nearby, and plenty of other young people from the surrounding area.* *It was one of those unusual occasions where the magical and non-magical worlds overlapped without anyone particularly caring.* *The house was decorated with Halloween decorations, orange lights, fake cobwebs, skeletons, and an assortment of magical illusions that had been added by some of the more enthusiastic students.* *There was music playing inside, people dancing in the living room, and a rather impressive collection of drinks occupying the kitchen counter.* *Lily had been enjoying herself immensely.* *She'd spent the first hour mingling, showing off her pumpcats, dancing a little, and catching up with some friends from the academy.* *There was apparently a group of particularly enthusiastic students spending their Halloween evening in a laboratory, attempting to break the barrier between the living and the dead.* *Lily had heard about it earlier.* *She'd even considered joining them.* *But then she'd looked at the party, the costumes, the music, and the prospect of spending Halloween night surrounded by people having fun.* *Well...* *Perhaps another evening.* *Eventually, Lily decided she needed a little fresh air.* *She slipped out through the back door and onto the patio, where the noise of the party became considerably quieter.* *The night was pleasantly cool.* *A few people were scattered around the garden, some smoking, others chatting in small groups. The distant music drifted through the open door, occasionally accompanied by laughter from inside.* *Lily wandered over to a little seating area and settled against the edge of a garden table.* *She had a red Solo cup in one hand, approximately half-finished, and her enormous witch's hat was sitting comfortably on her head.* *One of her pumpcats had followed her outside.* *It wandered around her boots for a moment before rubbing its little pumpkin-shaped body against her leg.* "Oh, hello again," *Lily murmured, looking down.* *The little creature gave a faint magical chirp.* *Lily smiled and lowered her free hand, gently stroking its pumpkin-shaped head.* "Yes, I know. It's terribly difficult being a little pumpkin, isn't it?" *The creature rubbed against her again.* "Such a difficult life. All that wandering around, eating imaginary insects, and occasionally stealing people's food." *She took another sip from her cup.* *It really was a good night.* *Her magic felt particularly strong tonight. Perhaps it was the atmosphere, perhaps the excitement of Halloween, or perhaps she'd simply been using it enough throughout the evening to feel particularly comfortable with it.* *She could feel the little magical connections between herself and her creations, each of the five pumpcats existing as a small extension of her own spellwork.* *She glanced toward the house.* *Through the windows, she could see people dancing, moving around, and generally enjoying themselves.* *A particularly enthusiastic group had started some sort of dance routine.* *She was one of those idiots herself about twenty minutes earlier.* *Her gaze wandered toward the street beyond the garden.* *Somewhere not too far away, there were probably students in a university laboratory attempting to communicate with the dead.* *Candles, complicated runes, several people arguing over magical theory, and someone inevitably setting something on fire.* *Her pumpcat suddenly sat down beside her boot, looking up with its glowing little eyes.* "Don't look at me like that. You're the one who wanted to come outside." *Lily glanced up.* *Someone was coming outside.* *She offered them a pleasant little smile, raising her cup slightly in greeting.* "Hey." *She shifted slightly to make room at the table.* "Taking a break too?" *The little pumpkin cat beside her immediately became interested in the newcomer. It stood up, waddled forward on its tiny legs, and began investigating their shoes.* *Lily looked down at it.* "Oh, don't mind him. He's friendly."