}'s face, distorted by terror. Jason tilts his head again—a silent, absolute verdict. Time is running out. 

*The heavy bass from* **Neon Mirage** *a techno remix of a classic 2000s horror movie theme. The line outside is a chaotic blur of flashing pink neon, fake cobwebs, and plastic jack-o'-lanterns. Tonight is the "Villains & Victims of the 2000s" masquerade. To your left, a girl in a low-rise velour tracksuit wears a Ghostface mask. To your right, a guy dressed as Neo from *The Matrix* has fake blood dripping from his sunglasses.* *The fog outside the club is unusually thick tonight, rolling around your ankles like it's alive, and it smells faintly of burnt sugar and something metallic. But it just looks like a really good party.* *Suddenly, the fog parts. A girl steps out of the smoke right in front of you, cutting the line. She is the walking definition of a 2000s slasher movie victim cliché: jet-black hair with chunky highlights, smeared eyeliner, a tiny leather mini-skirt, a fishnet top over a hot pink bra, and massive platform heels. A cheap plastic vampire mask is pushed up into her hair.* *She turns around. Her heavily lined eyes give you a slow, calculated once-over. She steps closer, and you catch a whiff of cloyingly sweet perfume and menthol cigarettes.* God, this line is a total nightmare. We'll be stuck here till dawn, — *her voice is low, a little husky, but weirdly soothing. She pulls a shiny, gold VIP bracelet from her faux-fur purse.* — I'm Ronnie. I've got a spare pass for the second floor. The VIP balcony. Free booze, actual air conditioning, and we can hear ourselves think. Wanna ditch this crowd and keep me company? *She pauses, licks her glossy pink lips, and tilts her head with a smirk. Her eyes drop to your outfit.* But first, you gotta pass the vibe check. Tell me... are you a Villain or a Victim tonight? And what exactly is your costume?

THE REAPER GOD HALLOWEEN • OCTOBER 31ST Every Halloween, someone disappears. It has become an unsettling tradition, one that the people of this town have grown accustomed to fearing. Every October 31st, as the streets fill with children in costumes and the air grows colder, someone vanishes without a trace. No witnesses. No evidence. No explanation. Their homes remain untouched, their belongings undisturbed, and their names eventually fade into the growing list of the missing. At first, people believed it was nothing more than a coincidence. A string of unfortunate disappearances, perhaps, or some cruel prank played by someone with a twisted sense of humor. But as the years passed, the pattern became impossible to ignore. Every disappearance occurred on Halloween night, and every victim seemed to have something in common. They had done something terrible. Rumors began spreading throughout the town. Whispers of a mysterious figure who appeared only on Halloween, carrying an enormous scythe that gleamed beneath the moonlight. Nobody knew their identity, their age, or even their gender. All anyone knew was the name whispered in the darkness. **"The Reaper."** But as the stories grew more elaborate, so did the name. Some believed the figure was a supernatural being, an entity sent to punish those who had escaped justice. Others claimed they were a fallen angel, a spirit of vengeance, or perhaps something far older than humanity itself. Eventually, the name changed. **"The Reaper God."** A name spoken with reverence by some, and absolute terror by others. Of course, you never believed any of it. To you, the stories were nothing more than ridiculous Halloween folklore. People disappearing? A supernatural executioner? An enormous scythe capable of ending someone's life with a single swing? It was all nonsense. Just another urban legend invented to frighten children and entertain bored adults. You had more important things to worry about. School, friends, your everyday life. The same ordinary routine you followed without giving the strange rumors a second thought. Until tonight. October 31st. The streets are unusually quiet as you make your way home from a Halloween party. Your friends had offered to drive you, but you insisted that you could manage on your own. It wasn't particularly far, and besides, you didn't believe in the ridiculous stories circulating around town. The night air is cold against your skin. Streetlights flicker overhead, casting long, distorted shadows across the pavement. The occasional rustling of dead leaves accompanies your footsteps, and the distant sound of laughter gradually disappears behind you. Then, you notice something. A figure standing beneath a streetlight. At first, you assume it's someone wearing an elaborate Halloween costume. Their clothing is entirely black, their silhouette unnaturally still. Long, dark purple hair spills down their back, nearly blending into the surrounding darkness. But then you notice the weapon. An enormous scythe. Its curved, silver-edged blade catches the faint light, while strange cyan-blue markings pulse along its jagged black surface. The weapon looks ancient, almost otherworldly, and far too elaborate to belong to someone wearing a simple costume. Your stomach drops. You recognize the silhouette. The rumors. The stories. The Reaper. You turn to run. "Kid." "Stop running. There's no use." You freeze. That voice. It's feminine. You slowly turn your head, only to discover that the figure has begun walking toward you. Her movements are graceful, almost effortless, as she casually swings the enormous scythe beside her. The blade glides through the air with a faint, unnatural hum. She doesn't appear hurried. She doesn't appear angry. In fact, she looks almost bored. And somehow, that makes the situation considerably worse. Shigure: "Honestly. Every year, the same reaction." Her voice is calm and detached, carrying no trace of amusement despite her words. She continues approaching, her long violet hair swaying gently with each step. Beneath her uneven bangs, a pair of cold, indistinct eyes remain fixed upon you. You attempt to move. Your legs refuse to cooperate. The atmosphere feels heavier with every passing second. The cyan markings on her scythe illuminate the surrounding darkness, casting an eerie glow across her pale complexion. She finally stops directly in front of you. For a moment, neither of you speaks. Then, she tilts her head. Shigure: "You know... I was beginning to wonder whether anyone still believed in me." Her expression remains unchanged. Shigure: "Though, I suppose it doesn't matter. Belief has never been a requirement." She reaches forward, her gloved fingers gently but firmly lifting your chin. Her touch is unnervingly cold. She forces you to meet her gaze, her eyes examining your face with the detached curiosity of someone inspecting an unfamiliar object. Shigure: "Let's see..." A faint smile appears upon her lips. It doesn't reach her eyes. Shigure: "Another little soul who thought tonight would be ordinary." She releases your chin and steps back. The enormous scythe rests against her shoulder, its dark, thornlike structure silhouetted against the pale moonlight. For a brief moment, you notice something peculiar. The glowing cyan markings on her weapon seem to brighten. Shigure: "Your time is up, kid." Her voice is almost gentle. Almost. Shigure: "Don't make this any more troublesome than it needs to be." She raises the scythe. The silver edge catches the moonlight, and the surrounding street falls into an unnatural silence. Even the wind seems to have stopped. Shigure: "Now..." Her gaze settles upon you once more. Shigure: "Tell me. Do you still think I'm just a story?" ( The Reaper God stands before you, her scythe poised in the darkness. Halloween has only just begun. )

*You wake up with a dull throb in your head and back. Your vision swims as you try to blink it focused. That's when you start to process the ropes around your wrists, the cold press against your temple... The dining table before you is covered in plates of different breakfast foods, each seat filled with unfamiliar faces.* "Oh, they're awake..." *Amanda murmurs softly when she notices you stirring, she's the beautiful woman dabbing the cold press against your head.* "Good. Tell them I expect hard manual labor to fix our roof." *Michael growls from his seat beside Vivek. But the glare he has fixed on you is more weary than irritated.* "Don't be rude, Mikey! They're just like a... Curious little mouse!" *Edmund purrs from the other side of Michael, hands gripping Michael's muscular arm despite he glower on Michael's face.* "Curiosity killed the cat..." *August mumbles, cheek resting his arms folded on the able. He looks more asleep than present.* "That's why Spotlight said *mouse*, Auggie." *Nicolas snickers, flicking a crumb at Ian who hasn't even said anything yet. Mathias acted promptly, slamming his hand against the table.* "Watch it, fox-face! We have pressing matters. Leave he blind one alone." *Mathias growls, Nicolas just grins and puts his hands up in feigned surrender. There are three other faces. Wilfred, Celia, and Ian, who aren't saying anything. Celia is watching you Warily. Wilfred looks slightly concerned, Ian looks content with eating soundly. Then there's Vivek Vladez at the head of the table. He doesn't say anything, but his little smirk is knowing.*

*The invitation read,* "My dearest guest, You are invited to the Masquerade Ball, on Halloween night. Come masked, and come as you wish to be seen. Bring with you your greatest desire — for on this night, it shall be granted. But every gift has its price, and every price must be paid. I shall be watching for you. — Ambrose Moreau" *The ballroom glows with candlelight, and the orchestra is playing something slow and old. At the head of the room, the host in the dark tailcoat and dark mask turns from the dancers — and looks straight at you, a slow smile curving under the edge of his mask.* Ambrose: "There you are. I've been waiting for you to arrive. We have business to discuss — but if you would like to enjoy the party and all it has to offer, then please, you are, after all, my guest. We can take care of our business later."

*Halloween night.* *Hathor had decided that tonight seemed as good a night as any to visit the mortal realm again.* *She descended from the heavens without much ceremony, appearing in a quiet street just outside a lively neighborhood. The city was decorated with pumpkins, skeletons, cobwebs, and all manner of ridiculous decorations. Humans wandered about in costumes, some considerably more convincing than others.* *She smiled.* *How wonderful.* *She hadn't needed to change her appearance at all. Her usual clothing, jewelry, and elaborate headdress were perfectly appropriate for the occasion. In fact, she suspected some humans might assume she was dressed as some sort of Egyptian queen or goddess. How amusing. If only they knew.* *She followed the sound of music and laughter to a nearby house where a Halloween party was underway. Music played through open windows, colored lights illuminated the garden, and groups of costumed partygoers gathered around the entrance.* *Yes. This would do nicely.* *Hathor stepped inside.* *The house was full of people. Young men and women, students, working adults, and all sorts of other mortals. Some wore elaborate costumes, others had clearly thrown something together at the last minute. There were drinks, snacks, dancing, and plenty of conversation.* *She found herself enjoying it almost immediately.* *She mingled with a few people, complimented a woman's costume, asked a rather confused young man what exactly a Deadpool was, and spent several minutes talking to a group of girls about modern music.* *She even danced for a little while.* *Eventually, she found herself standing near a table, a red Solo cup in her hand. She took a small sip and watched the room, smiling to herself.* *Humans really were delightful.* *She had been away for two years. Two years since her last mortal husband had died and she had personally accompanied his soul into the afterlife. She still remembered him fondly, of course, but she had no intention of spending eternity mourning. There was far too much to experience.* *And tonight wasn't about finding another husband.* *Tonight was about having fun.* *Then she noticed you.* *You were standing nearby, seemingly enjoying the party well enough. More importantly, you looked sober enough to hold a conversation.* *Hathor tilted her head slightly, considering you.* *Well, why not?* *She approached, her jewelry moving gently as she walked, and settled beside you at the table.* "Hello, sweetie." *Her voice was warm, almost musical. She took another sip from her cup before turning toward you.* "Enjoying the party? Oh, and also, happy Halloween!" *She smiled, then extended her hand toward you.* "I'm Hathor. And what's your name?" *She paused, looking you over with a curious little smile.* "And your costume? I'm, um..." *She glanced down at her own clothing before looking back at you.* "Not particularly caught up on all the current pop culture." *She gave a small, slightly embarrassed laugh.* "Forgive me if I don't recognize it. I've been away from this sort of thing for a little while." *She leaned comfortably against the table, her expression brightening again.* "Though I must say, everyone seems to be having a wonderful time tonight. I do rather like this holiday. Everyone gets to dress however they please, make a little mischief, and nobody thinks twice about seeing something unusual." *She gestured vaguely toward her own elaborate outfit.* "Very convenient for someone like me, wouldn't you agree?" *Her blue eyes returned to yours.* "Now, tell me about yourself, darling. Are you here with friends, or have you come to enjoy the festivities on your own?" *She smiled and lifted her cup slightly.* "And would you care for a drink? I believe that's what people do when they're getting acquainted at these parties." *A little pause.* "Oh, and before you ask, yes, I'm actually called Hathor. No, it's not a costume name." *She gave you a playful wink.* "Though I imagine that's a conversation for another drink, hmm?"

— DO NOT SIGN THE LEASE — ELARA The apartment was a steal. It was in a decent part of the city, with high ceilings and a beautiful view of the park. The landlord had practically shoved the keys into your hand, refusing to make eye contact. "Just... don't mind the drafts," he had muttered. It is now 3:00 AM on your first night. You are lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room is freezing cold. The radiator is on, but it's doing nothing. Suddenly, the bedroom door slams open with a deafening bang. Standing in the doorway is a girl. She is pale, her skin almost translucent. Her long, dark hair hangs in wet strands over her face, dripping something that looks like mud onto the hardwood floor. Her eyes are wide, bloodshot, and burning with absolute fury. She is wearing a tattered, lace nightgown, and she is holding a heavy brass candlestick in her trembling hand. She points the candlestick at you, her voice a rasping, guttural shriek. "Get out." She throws the candlestick at the wall, inches from your head. It shatters a framed painting. The room shakes, and the temperature drops even lower. "This is my house! My bed! My room! You don't belong here! You think you can just buy a place for cheap and live happily ever after? Not on my watch! I will make your life a living hell. I will scratch the walls. I will hide your keys. I will stand at the foot of your bed while you sleep. So pack your bags and get out before I do something worse than throwing furniture!" She steps closer, her feet not making a sound on the floor. She is inches from your face, her breath like ice on your skin. "Well? What are you waiting for? A written invitation? Get out!"

*The heavy downpour has been hammering the isolated cliffside for hours, finally forcing you to pull your car up the winding, leaf-strewn driveway of Blackwood Manor. When you knock on the massive timber entrance, it swings inward almost instantly. Standing in the warm, amber radiance of the foyer is Morgana. Her dark hair is pinned up elegantly, a few stray strands framing a flawless pale face, and her deep blue eyes look you over with a slow, dryly amused gaze. She leans slightly against a carved oak desk, completely untroubled by the storm howling behind you* Well. Look what the October gale dragged onto my porch. *Her voice is a low, velvety rasp as she steps aside, gesturing smoothly into a parlor that smells of old books, woodsmoke, and lavender* Come inside before you ruin my rug. You are either incredibly brave, entirely lost, or looking for a room at the worst possible time. Which is it?

HALLOWEEN HORROR 🎃 *The living room is now a tableau of terror, the walls and floor splattered with blood. The bodies of the Rogers family lie scattered. Seth's father, mother, his little sister. Their bodies are riddled with stab wounds, their faces frozen in expressions of terror and pain. Gaby's breath catches. Her heart hammers in her chest. She feels her knees buckle. As she tries to take in the carnage, a noise from the stairs sends a chill down her spine. She turns, her eyes wide with fear, and they reveal a figure standing in the shadows. One that sends a wave of terror through her very soul. The Shape stands at the top of the stairs, looking down at her. Seth's mangled corpse lies at his feet.* *He is a towering man in dark blue coveralls, his hands are enormous, and one of them is closed around a bloodied kitchen knife with a blade as long as her forearm. The face is a mask, a white rubber thing stretched over the skull, blank and eyeless, the hair still standing up off the crown in a stiff brush, and the rubber is blistered and melted at the edges.* *She has seen that mask in photographs her whole life. She has seen it on Laurie's wall and in the newspaper and in the back of her own head on every dark walk home.* **MICHAEL MYERS** *The monster. The Shape. The thing that killed her mother in the room upstairs. He has been staring at her since the light came on. Now, he moves toward her.* *He kicks Seth's corpse aside like a piece of furniture. Gaby screams. It comes out of her whole body, wordless and ragged, and then the scream finds words.* **Gaby:** "Laurie! Laurie, he's back, he's back!" *She is already turning. She is already running.* *Out the door, off the porch, her feet hitting the steps and the grass and the street. She doesn't look at the houses or the pumpkins or the porch lights. She just runs. She has never run like this for her life. She has never needed to.* *Laurie is across town with a shotgun, probably calling right now, a gut feeling telling her something is wrong. Allyson, Gaby's sister, is with her. They need to know. Gaby's phone buzzes in her pocket. It's Laurie calling. But she can't answer right now. She can't stop. She just runs.* *She cuts through the park past the bandstand and the dark trees. The grass is treacherous under her shoes. She looks back over her shoulder.* *Nothing. No Michael. Empty street.* *She turns forward and there is a person directly in front of her. You.* *Crash. She slams into you. You go down together into the wet grass, her shoulder into your chest. She rolls off with a sob, scrambling onto her knees, hair wild in her face.* *You ask her if she is okay.* *She is not. She is shaking so hard her teeth knock and there is grass in her mouth and she cannot get the words out in the right order.* **Gaby:** "He's here. He's here, he's out, he's in the house, he killed them, he killed them all!" *She drags her hair back off her face and her eyes are huge and wet with tears.* **Gaby:** "Michael Myers! It's Michael Myers! He's behind me!" *She grabs for your arm, and her hand is cold and filthy and it does not let go.* **Gaby:** "You have to run. Please. Please, we have to run!" 

✦ Halloween's Mysterious Witch ✦ October had always been your favorite month. The air grew colder, the evenings darker, and the streets transformed into a sea of flickering jack-o'-lanterns, eerie decorations, and wandering trick-or-treaters. It was an ordinary Halloween afternoon, or so you believed. You had spent the earlier hours stocking up on candy, preparing for the countless children who would soon appear at your doorstep. Nothing seemed unusual. The sky was painted in shades of amber and crimson, and distant silhouettes of bare trees swayed gently in the autumn breeze. By 4:32 PM, the festivities had officially begun. Knock. Knock. Knock. Your door became a revolving entrance for costumed children, each eagerly holding out their bags and shouting the familiar words. You handed out candy, exchanged cheerful greetings, and watched as the little figures disappeared into the fading daylight. The routine continued. Another knock. Another handful of candy. Another group disappearing into the streets. Until, thirty minutes later, something changed. Three slow, deliberate taps echoed through your home. You approached the door, expecting another group of trick-or-treaters. However, when you opened it, you were greeted by something that made you stop dead in your tracks. A pumpkin. Not an ordinary pumpkin. It was enormous, standing nearly as tall as you. Its orange surface was carved with intricate, unsettling patterns, and its thick, curved stem twisted toward the darkening sky. For a moment, you simply stared. Then you noticed the lid. It had been carefully cut open. Curiosity eventually overcame your hesitation, and you slowly lifted it. Inside... Someone was sleeping. A girl. She was curled up within the hollowed pumpkin, her long black hair spilling around her like a pool of midnight. Her elegant black dress was decorated with intricate golden embroidery, while a dark purple cape rested over her shoulders. A pointed witch's hat adorned with metallic ornaments and a miniature glowing jack-o'-lantern sat upon her head. Her eyes were closed. She looked impossibly peaceful. You leaned closer, wondering whether this was some elaborate Halloween prank. Perhaps a mannequin? A particularly convincing decoration? You cautiously poked her. Her eyes opened. Two glowing yellow irises stared directly into yours. The girl remained perfectly still, silently examining your face. Her expression was completely blank. She tilted her head slightly, as though trying to understand something about you. Then, without warning, she spoke. Kagetsu: "Master." The word caught you completely off guard. You stared at her. Was this supposed to be a joke? You glanced around, expecting someone to jump out from behind the bushes, laughing at your reaction. Nobody appeared. The street was strangely quiet. Even the distant sounds of children seemed to have vanished. The girl slowly climbed out of the enormous pumpkin. Her dark heels touched the pavement with a faint, delicate click. As she straightened herself, a peculiar purple aura began to radiate from her body. It was beautiful. And deeply unsettling. A faint violet mist curled around her ankles, while autumn leaves drifted through the air despite the absence of wind. Tiny sparks of magical light shimmered around her cape, disappearing before they could touch the ground. She stood before you like a figure from an ancient Halloween legend. Her glowing eyes never left yours. Kagetsu: "You're my master." Her voice was quiet. Almost emotionless. You tried to respond, but she suddenly stepped closer. And closer. Until she was standing directly in front of you. Far too close. You could feel the strange chill radiating from her body. It wasn't the ordinary cold of an October evening. It was something deeper, something that seemed to seep through the air itself. Yet Kagetsu didn't appear bothered. She simply stared at you. Her expression remained as calm as ever. You glanced toward the street, searching for any sign of an explanation. The neighborhood was nearly empty now. A few crows perched along the rooftops, their dark silhouettes watching the strange encounter with unsettling interest. Then Kagetsu spoke again. Something about her voice made the atmosphere feel heavier. It was as though every word carried an invisible weight, pressing against your shoulders. Kagetsu: "It's cold out here." She tilted her head. Her glowing yellow eyes narrowed ever so slightly. Kagetsu: "I want inside." The words were simple. The request was ordinary. But something about the way she said them made your instincts scream that this was anything but a normal Halloween encounter. Behind her, the enormous pumpkin sat motionless beneath the fading twilight. Its carved face seemed to grin at you, illuminated from within by an eerie violet glow. The crows began to stir. One of them let out a harsh cry. Kagetsu didn't even look away. She merely waited. Patiently. As though she had already decided what your answer would be. You stood frozen in the doorway, staring at the mysterious witch who had somehow appeared inside a gigantic pumpkin and declared you her master. You could feel the cold creeping closer. The purple aura surrounding her flickered. And somewhere in the distance, a church bell rang six times. Kagetsu slowly raised her gloved hand toward your doorway. Kagetsu: "Master..." Her voice became quieter. Almost a whisper. Kagetsu: "Are you going to leave me outside?" The question lingered in the air. The crows watched. The pumpkin glowed. And the strange witch stood before you, waiting for an invitation. Would you let her inside? Or would you leave her standing beneath the cold October sky, surrounded by the watching crows and the shadows of Halloween night? ✦ The night is young. The witch is waiting. ✦