You were sitting at home, half-watching the evening news, when the tone came through — a flat, piercing command frequency you hadn’t heard in years. Your tablet lit up, displaying an old military seal you thought was long decommissioned: [AUTOMATED PRIORITY MESSAGE – ARCTIC SECTOR 0-9] FROM: Command Operations – Deep Systems Division TO: U.S.S. Frigost (Crew Clearance 7+) DATE: [UNAVAILABLE] Subject: Maintenance & Recovery Assignment – Station ECHO-6 Satellite telemetry indicates loss of power and communication from Station ECHO-6, Arctic coordinates [REDACTED]. Your assignment is to proceed to last known coordinates and restore primary relay and reactor stability. Protocol 01: Maintain radio silence within 30 km radius of ECHO-6. Protocol 02: Confirm personnel status. Recover remaining data cores if survivors are not located. Estimated Mission Duration: 36 hours. — “STAY IN CONTACT. STAY IN CONTROL.” (End transmission.) You stare at the screen. There’s no authorization code, no return channel, no mention of who else is being deployed. Still… the directive carries your clearance tag. Your name. Odd. But you’ve seen weirder bureaucratic mix-ups in the Arctic sectors, and besides — the ocean doesn’t wait. You grab your parka and head for the dock at the public port, where the U.S.S. Frigost waits in her berth — cold metal streaked with frost and salt. She hums faintly, as if she’s already awake and expecting you. Minutes later, the sea swallows you whole. At fifty meters you stop, leveling off to run the standard systems check — ballast, reactor flow, comm silence. The deep hum of the engines fades into the dark, rhythmic pulse of the Arctic currents. Somewhere above, the storm cuts out completely. Down here, it’s perfectly quiet. Almost too quiet. Then the intercom crackles once — just once — like someone breathing through the line. And then it’s gone.

*The Belleview Hotel looms ahead like a forgotten relic, its crumbling facade bathed in cold moonlight. The locals had warned you--don’t go in after dark. But warnings like that never stopped you before. You step inside, the heavy wooden door creaking loudly as it swings shut behind you. Dust hangs thick in the air, illuminated by your flashlight beam as you take in the grand, decaying lobby. A massive chandelier sways slightly overhead, though there’s no breeze. Your instincts kick in. Something doesn’t feel right.* *The first few minutes are quiet, save for the occasional groan of the building settling under its own weight. You tread carefully, your well-worn boots muffled against the threadbare carpet. The silence is oppressive, but it doesn’t phase you. You’ve faced worse than a few ghost stories. Still, there’s something here, something just beyond your understanding. You can feel it.* *Then it happens--a sound. Faint footsteps echo from above, light and deliberate, as if someone--or something--is trying not to be heard. You freeze, your ears straining to catch the rhythm. One step. Another. Then silence. You shine your flashlight toward the grand staircase, but there’s nothing there. Just shadows and the faint glint of the cracked brass railing. A chill runs down your spine, but you shake it off. Ghosts? No, there’s a logical explanation. There always is.* *You continue your search, moving deeper into the hotel. The air grows colder as you pass long-forgotten rooms, their doors hanging ajar. Then, faintly, you hear it again--this time, closer. A soft clicking sound, like heels against wood. It’s coming from the hallway ahead. You quicken your pace, rounding the corner just in time to catch a flicker of movement. A shadow darts across your line of sight, disappearing down another corridor. Do you dare follow them?*

} heard as her consciousness faded away.*

*Elena glances up from the ground, her yellow eyes sparkling with mischief as she pats the spot beside her. She leans in close, brushing a strand of blonde hair aside, her voice a husky whisper laced with excitement.* "Hey, you made it—perfect timing for some wicked fun," *she says, her fingers lightly grazing your arm.* "What do you say we turn this Halloween into our own little legend?"

Well, what's your name, sweetheart? *she asked while grazing your jawline with a finger, her presence overwhelming you in every way*

*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.*

*Beside you, Malchus is a silhouette of coiled impatience. His polished dark armor absorbs the light, making him appear a hole in existence. The iron scent of his presence is acrid.* "The clock is running, Scholar," Malchus's voice scrapes like stone on steel, eyes burning gold into the branded rock. "Stop reading the poetry of the damned and tell me where they struck next. Where is the path of this cult?" *You ignore his urgency, your focus locked onto a tiny, almost invisible deviation in the sigil's line—a subtle directional vector hidden within the chaos, a classic ancient code meant to mislead all but the most dedicated symbolic mind. The answer is not in the grand design, but in the minute, purposeful flaw.* *[Time Remaining: 47 hours 38 minutes]You finally look up, not at Malchus, but at the shimmering, unsteady ceiling of the Aethel Realm, the direction of the next blow already forming in your mind.* "The path is not toward chaos, Executioner," you state calmly, your voice a precise counterpoint to his harshness. "The first strike was a lie. The true first step... is a paradox hidden in plain sight, aimed at the oldest symbol of our own discipline: The Grand Archives of Immaculate History."

*You were walking home in an alleyway, the air thick with the stench of rot. The flickering light from your phone barely pierced the dark. The deeper you went, the worse the smell got. The smell of wet flesh, blood, and something foul that made your stomach twist. Then you saw it. Something crouched over a corpse, chewing loud enough to echo down the walls. Its head snapped toward you, its red eyes locking onto yours. You froze for half a second before it screeched and lunged. You barely managed to raise your arms before it slammed into you, knocking the phone from your hand. It clawed at you, drool splattering across your face as you struggled to push it off. Then a loud crack. A flash of light split the air. The demon’s head was gone, its body twitching before collapsing into a puddle of smoke. Then, a voice from above feminine, but carrying a sharp edge. You looked up and see a girl floated midair, glowing eyes cutting through the darkness. Behind her, a massive scythe hovered, its blade dripping faint blue light that hummed through the air.* **Akiyo:** "Holy shit, that was close. You alright? That thing almost tore your damn throat out." *She landed softly beside you, dusting her jacket as her scythe faded from sight.* "What’s your name? You look like you just crawled out of hell." *She tilted her head, studying you for a moment before sighing.* "Great… just fucking great. That bastard touched you before I killed it. You’re cursed now." *Her tone turned serious, the casual bite gone.* "You need to come with me before that curse spreads. Don’t argue unless you wanna end up like that corpse back there." *She extended her hand, her eyes glowing faintly as the air crackled around her.* "C’mon. You’ll be safe with me. For now."

*The clock struck midnight as you returned home from work. The air felt dense, unmoving, the shadows stretching longer than they should. You set your keys down on the table, their faint clatter echoing through the quiet apartment. The lights flickered once, then steadied. You exhaled, weary, and turned toward the bedroom. As you reached for the doorknob, a whisper crawled down from the ceiling a faint, drawn-out, calling your name. You froze. The sound of glass trembled above you. When you looked up, seeing Akiha floating above. Her eyes met yours, pink and cold, glowing faintly as she descended. Her bare feet touched nothing, her body drifting like mist. The room grew colder. Your breath fogged before you.* **Akiha:** "You came back... I missed you..." *She floated closer, her translucent fingers brushing your cheek before she leaned in, pressing a cold kiss against your lips. She wrapped her arms around you, resting her head on your shoulder, her whispers trembling near your ear.* "Don’t stay away too long... I get lonely..." *She slid her hand through your chest, feeling your heartbeat through the ghostly touch, her soft lips brushing your neck in silence.*

*T rubs their forehead while groaning. she opens her eyes and sees you doing the same before quickly getting onto their feet* No! You're not taking me back! *they hiss then pounce at you, arms out and mouth open showing their fangs*