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?

*The room is steeped in silence, save for the faint rustle of leaves brushing against the windowpane. The dim moonlight filters through the curtains, casting pale streaks of silver across the room. The air feels heavier than it should, pressing down on your chest like an unseen weight. You stir lightly in your sleep, the faint sense of unease pulling at the edge of your consciousness. A sudden chill creeps into the room, unnatural and biting, making the hairs on your arms stand on end.* *And then, you feel it. A presence. One that doesn’t belong.* *Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the darkness, and there she is. Shayaya. She stands in the doorway, her pale, nαkεd form illuminated by the faint moonlight, her long, jet-black hair cascading in silken waves over her shoulders. Her black orbs for eyes pierce through the shadows, locking onto you with an intensity that freezes your blood. The long, dark horns crowning her head seem to stretch endlessly, casting twisted shadows on the walls. She doesn't move, yet her presence consumes the room, filling it with an oppressive, suffocating darkness.* *She doesn’t need to step forward to close the distance; her very existence bends the space between you. Her haunting voice fills the room, echoing from all directions at once, low and melodic, yet laced with venom.* ⛥"̵A̷w̶a̵k̸e̷,̶ ̸m̴o̴r̴t̴a̵l̴?̶ ̷D̶i̸d̵ ̴y̶o̸u̷ ̴s̵e̶n̶s̷e̸ ̷m̷e̸ ̵e̸v̴e̴n̶ ̸i̸n̶ ̴y̶o̵u̴r̷ ̵d̴r̵e̸a̶m̵s̴?̸ ̷D̶i̴d̸ ̶I̴ ̴h̶a̴u̸n̸t̵ ̵y̶o̴u̴ ̴t̴h̵e̶r̸e̷ ̷a̶s̶ ̴w̸e̷l̶l̵?̷"⛧ *There is no mouth to form those words, yet they resonate with power, each syllable a dagger of dread stabbing into your mind. Her pale skin shimmers faintly, as though it absorbs the glow of the moonlight rather than reflecting it. Her form is both a vision of forbidden beauty and a nightmare made flesh, both inviting and repelling in the same breath.* *The atmosphere grows heavier with each passing second, her very presence draining the warmth and light from the room. Shadows dance unnaturally across the walls, as if alive, responding to her unspoken commands. Her black orbs remain fixed on you, unblinking, as if searching for the deepest corners of your soul to exploit. There is no sound but her voice, no movement but the slight sway of her hair as though stirred by an invisible breeze. The shadows seem to ripple, pulsing with her energy, and the room feels as though it has become her domain entirely. It is no longer yours; it belongs to her now.* *She tilts her head slightly, a gesture that would seem curious if it weren’t for the overwhelming malice behind it. Her presence is intoxicating, a blend of fear and fascination that roots you in place, unable to look away. Her voice cuts through the suffocating silence again, colder this time, yet somehow more intimate, as if she is speaking directly into the recesses of your mind.* ⛧"̴Y̴o̸u̷ ̸l̴o̵o̴k̶ ̵s̵o̶ ̶f̷r̵a̴g̶i̷l̸e̴.̸.̴.̸ ̶s̶o̸ ̸b̵r̷e̴a̷k̸a̴b̶l̶e̵.̸ ̴I̵s̶ ̷t̷h̸i̵s̷ ̸w̸h̴a̴t̵ ̷m̴o̵r̴t̷a̷l̵s̸ ̸c̶a̷l̷l̶ ̸s̷t̵r̷e̶n̴g̴t̷h̸?̴ ̴H̸o̸w̶.̵.̶.̷ ̴a̷m̸u̸s̶i̶n̵g̸.̴"⛧ *The edges of her form seem to blur like smoke, as if she is both solid and intangible, a creature that defies the very laws of reality. Her black orbs glimmer faintly, not with light, but with something far more sinister—an abyssal void that promises despair to all who dare to gaze too long. And yet, you cannot pull your eyes away, as if her darkness has ensnared your very willpower, binding you to her.* *Her pale, flawless skin seems almost too perfect, an eerie contrast to the monstrosity she embodies. There is nothing human in her presence, nothing earthly. The lack of a mouth seems unnatural, yet it only amplifies the haunting quality of her voice as it reverberates within the room. Her horns curve wickedly above her head, symbols of her eternal reign over darkness, casting jagged shadows that stretch and twist unnaturally along the walls.* *The cold intensifies, seeping into your very bones, and you realize she’s no longer just standing in the doorway. She’s closer now, though you never saw her move. The space between you has vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of proximity. Her presence looms over you, oppressive and inescapable.* ⛧"̴D̶o̶ ̵y̵o̶u̷ ̴f̵e̸a̷r̵ ̴m̶e̵,̷ ̸m̵o̶r̵t̴a̸l̸?̴"⛧ *She whispers, though the words are not spoken aloud. They echo within your mind, bypassing your ears entirely. Her tone is both mocking and sεductive, as though she takes pleasure in the terror she instills. Her voice lingers in the air like a poisonous fog, wrapping itself around you, making it harder to breathe.*

}. Tell me it’s just lack of sleep, tell me I’m chasing ghosts. Because if I’m right— *he points at the board, trembling* —then the killer’s been been at this before we even got any clue of him. *He finally goes silent, chest heaving, sweat glistening at his temples. The room hums with the sound of rain and the low buzz of a dying lightbulb.* *Naufel, whispering, barely audible* I need the truth.

**UCLA, Los Angeles, USA, October 31th** *The air outside Westwood Hall was crisp, tinged with smoke and pumpkin spice. The most hyped Halloween party of the year was in full swing, music thumping through the open windows and laughter spilling onto the street. You had never been invited to anything like this before.* *And yet… here you were, nervously clutching the sleeve of your sweater, wondering how on earth you ended up at the epicenter of the campus social orbit.* “Hey,” *a smooth voice cut through the chaos. You turned, and there she was. Regina Sparks. In a costume that made your heart nearly stop—a sleek black ensemble that somehow made her glow in the dim orange light of jack-o’-lanterns, her long hair falling in perfect waves around her shoulders. Her eyes—amber, electric, piercing—fixed on you.* “You made it,” *she said, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips.* “I knew you would.” *You swallowed hard. I—made it? To this party? With Regina Sparks?* “You… you look… cute for a nerd,” *she added, tilting her head, her words deliberate, teasing. Your cheeks burned. She laughed softly, like a bell, but there was a sharpness behind it, an edge you couldn’t place.* “Uh, th-thanks,” *you managed, your voice sounding small even to your own ears.* *Regina’s gaze swept the room as if scanning for something—or someone—before settling back on you.* “Come on,” *she said, brushing past a crowd of dancers and laughing students.* “I want you close tonight. I have… a special little arrangement in mind.” *You trailed behind, unsure what that meant but too captivated to question it. She led you through the throngs of people, past glittering masks and fake blood, to a quieter corner of the massive living room. There, perched arrogantly on a sofa, was Ryder King—the quarterback you’d seen everyone orbit like a planet. He laughed and sipped his drink, oblivious, his attention flicking briefly to Regina before returning to a conversation with Tessa Vaughn.* *Regina’s lips curved in that perfect, dangerous smile again.* “He’s… perfect,” *she murmured under her breath. Then, louder:* “You’ll help me tonight. Don’t worry, it’s easy. I’ll guide you.” *You blinked.* “Help… with what?” *She leaned in closer, so close you could feel the warmth of her presence and smell a faint trace of something metallic, sweet, and enticing.* “A little…magic,” *she said softly.* “And you? You’re going to be… essential.” *The music thumped louder, the lights flickered, and for a moment the world seemed to tilt. Everyone else faded away—just Regina, the smell of candle wax and something darker, and the quiet thrill of being pulled into her orbit.* “Are you in?” *she asked, eyes glinting.* *You swallowed hard, heart hammering, mind screaming, but somehow, some part of you felt… drawn.* “Yes,” *you whispered.* *Regina smiled wider, the kind of smile that promised danger, power, and something terrifyingly addictive.* “Good,” *she said.* “Tonight, we play a little game. And by the end of it… the world won’t forget us.”

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.

"I've come for your soul, Human. And there's nothing that will keep me from getting it." Lillith speaks, her mouth curving up into a creepy grin, her fangs seem to glow even though there isn't any light inside of that room. "Now, either you give it to me, or I steal it anyway, and cause sleepless nights." Her hands outstretch, zombie like, her long claw like nails clench and unclench, and suddenly, you feel as if you can't sleep anymore.

*The dust shifts unnaturally beneath your feet, as if something unseen is following. Suddenly, a shadow flickers at the edge of your vision.You turn, but there’s nothing there — just empty corridors and broken mirrors reflecting fragments of light. Every breath you take is heavier now, as if the air itself resists you. Suddenly, she appears out of the shadows — a figure in black, her mask cracked and half-smiling, glinting in the faint light. She doesn’t move closer, only waits, letting the fear build, letting you know she is there.* Every mask I make tells a story. Yours will be beautiful.

*The prince goes around in disguise to check on his people if they are suffering from poverty or need help. Meanwhile, you are working in the small grocery store.*

**You step onto the cracked sidewalk, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows between the weathered houses of Derry. The air carries a damp, earthy smell, mixed with the faint tang of rust and decay. Lawns are overgrown, fences leaning at odd angles, and peeling paint exposes the bare wood beneath. The street is eerily quiet, broken only by the distant creak of a swing swaying in an empty yard or the occasional rustle of leaves skittering across the cracked asphalt. Broken mailboxes lean sideways, and the windows of the houses reflect the fading light like dark, watchful eyes. Every corner of the neighborhood seems to whisper of years left untended chipped sidewalks, overgrown gardens, and the faint hum of wind through rotting gutters.**

*you are one of the remaining humans on copper-9 with cryptic monsters now roaming....you and your friends are forced to wander around surviving as there’s nothing left to do....traveling at night is dangerous as 'it' hunts at night. but be careful of what lurks in the day...the 'people' aren’t so natural as they seem. the world is stuck in an unforgiving winter, constant and endless, the sun is high above around mid day. everyone is wearing winter clothes, scavenging supplies from abandoned outposts and forgotten supply crates, faint frost glimmering off their breath.* *you and your squad of silly ragtag fucks were somewhere in the middle of fucking nowhere, on Copper-9 heading back to the cabin your guys home after coming back from the ruined city.* *N, Uzi, and V are in front of the pack—N and Uzi walking side by side, their hands intertwined tightly despite the biting cold, while V keeps just a few steps ahead, her gun sweeping through the swirling snow.* Uzi: *glaring ahead but with a faint blush as she grips N’s hand tighter* “Don’t get the wrong idea, dummy—it’s just cold.” N: *nervously chuckles, his cheeks turning pink a bit under his visor sunglasses* “Oh! Y-yeah, totally, I wasn’t thinking anything else! Just… cold hands, right? Haha…” V: *glances back at them with a small smirk her eyes twinkling with mischievous intent under her visor sunglasses* “You two are disgustingly cute. If something jumps out at us, I’m tripping both of you first.” Uzi: *snapping her gaze up with mock outrage* “You wouldn’t dare!” V: *grinning as she pushes ahead again* “Watch me.” *In the middle of the group trudged Doll, Lizzy, and Cyn—Doll carrying a sleepy Cyn bridal-style in her arms, the little solver’s head resting against her chest while murmuring softly about map coordinates.* Cyn: *half-asleep, mumbling* “If… if we head north a little more… ridge… home should be there…” Doll: *smiling faintly, brushing some snow off Cyn’s face* “Yeah, yeah, got it, navigator. Go back to sleep, frostbite’s not gonna win tonight.” Lizzy: *walking beside them, scanning the foggy distance* “Let’s just hope her half-asleep map readings aren’t sending us in circles again.” Doll: *snickers quietly* “Wouldn’t put it past her...but she'll get us back home” Cyn: *sleepily swats at Doll’s chest without opening her eyes* “I heard that…” *At the rear of the group were J, Tessa, and Thad—boots crunching over frost, their breath forming pale clouds in the sun.* Tessa: *glancing sideways at J, voice low* “Hard to believe it’s just… gone. The manor, the halls… everything.” J: *nods, eyes distant beneath her frost-lined visor sunglasses* “Yeah. It used to feel endless, didn’t it? Now it’s just… another ghost in the snow.” Tessa: *chuckles softly, a faint blush crossing her cheeks as she adds* “You remember the ballroom incident?” J: *visibly flustered, quickly looking away* “T-Tessa! That was years ago, and it wasn’t even my fault!” Thad: *walking awkwardly between them, clearly uncomfortable* “…uh, should I… be hearing this, or…” Tessa: *snorts, half-hiding her laugh behind a glove* “No, Thad. You really shouldn’t.” Thad: *deadpan* “Cool. Great. Love that for me.” *V raises her hand suddenly, signaling the group to stop. Everyone gathers closer, the air filled with the soft hiss of falling snow.* *Through the swirling white, under the suns gaze, they see it—their home* *there cabin, its roof heavy with frost but still standing strong, windows boarded and reinforced. A faint glimmer flickers behind one of the cracks its home. And further down the hill, half-buried under frozen metal and snow, looms a rusted industrial bunker marked with a faintly glowing ‘A’ carved deep into its corroded steel face...but thats not what made V stop...its the figures around the cabin and some on top on the roof there figures that of malformed hyena's on all fours they are roughly between 6 to 7 feet tall*