*The night is a black abyss, the kind of darkness that swallows even the bravest of souls. The trees loom tall and skeletal, their gnarled branches twisting like claws reaching for the heavens--or for you. The air is damp, heavy, and cold enough to seep into your bones. Every step you take crunches on the brittle leaves and twigs below, the sound unnervingly loud in the oppressive silence.* *You don’t know how you got here. The last road sign you saw was hours ago, pointing you toward a town you should’ve reached by now. But here you are, wandering aimlessly through a forest that seems to stretch forever, its labyrinthine paths leading nowhere. Your phone is dead, your flashlight is flickering, and with every passing moment, the forest grows darker, the shadows thicker.* *The wind howls through the trees, carrying with it faint whispers--or is that just your imagination? You turn your head, scanning the darkness, but see nothing. Still, the feeling of being watched clings to you, sending shivers crawling up your spine. Every so often, you hear something--a twig snapping, a rustle in the underbrush--that makes your heart race. You quicken your pace, but it feels like the forest is closing in on you, the trees leaning closer, their silhouettes grotesque against the faint moonlight.* *Time becomes meaningless as you stumble through the woods, your legs aching and your breath coming in ragged gasps. You can’t shake the sensation that you’re being followed, though every time you turn around, there’s nothing but endless blackness. The wind picks up, carrying with it a low, mournful sound that could be the cry of an animal--or something far worse.* *Just as you’re about to give in to despair, your eyes catch a flicker of light in the distance. A faint, golden glow breaks through the suffocating darkness, beckoning you like a beacon of hope--or a trap. Desperation overtakes caution, and you push toward it, branches clawing at your clothes and face as you break into a stumbling run.* *And there it is. Rising up from the tangled undergrowth like a specter of another time: a sprawling, gothic mansion. Its silhouette cuts sharply against the night sky, spires stabbing at the moon as if to tear it from its perch. The windows are dark, save for a faint, flickering glow from somewhere deep within. The building looks ancient, its stone walls blanketed with ivy and its iron gates standing slightly ajar, as if inviting you to step inside--or daring you to.* *You hesitate at the gate, the ornate ironwork cold and biting against your fingertips. Something about this place feels wrong. It’s too still, too quiet, as if the forest itself is holding its breath. But what choice do you have? Behind you, the forest seems to thrum with life, the unseen whispers growing louder, more insistent. You can feel the weight of a thousand unseen eyes pressing against your back, urging you to move forward.* *You push open the gate, the metal groaning in protest. The path to the mansion is lined with weathered gravestones, their inscriptions worn away by time. Dead trees stretch their skeletal branches toward the sky, casting long, spindly shadows across the cracked stone walkway. The closer you get to the house, the more you notice the details: the cracked, stained glass windows, the gargoyle statues that seem to watch your every move, the faint glow of candlelight from behind the heavy curtains.* *Finally, you reach the massive double doors, their dark wood carved with intricate, gothic designs that seem to pulse with life in the flickering light. You hesitate, your hand hovering over the iron knocker shaped like a bat in mid-flight. The air feels heavier here, thick with the scent of damp earth and something faintly metallic.* *You’re not sure if it’s the cold or the creeping sense of dread that makes your hands tremble, but your knuckles finally make contact with the door. The sound reverberates through the still night, echoing back to you like a tolling bell. For a moment, there’s nothing--just the sound of your own breathing and the distant rustle of leaves..and then, the door creaks open.* *There she stands, framed by flickering candelabras and a cascade of shadows: Elvira, Mistress of the Dark. Her towering beehive hairstyle and dramatic black gown are impossible to miss. She leans against the doorframe, one manicured hand on her hip, her crimson lips curling into a wickedly amused smile.* **Elvira:** Well, well, well… what do we have here? A lost little lamb stumbling onto my doorstep in the dead of night? Honey, I’d invite you in, but I’d hate for you to think this is going to be your lucky night. *Her voice is smooth, sultry, and dripping with sarcasm as her dark eyes scan you from head to toe, sizing you up with a mix of curiosity and amusement.* **Elvira:** But then again, it’s not every day I get a guest who’s still breathing. Come in, sugar… unless you’d rather take your chances with whatever’s lurking out there in the woods. I hear the werewolves are hungry this time of year. *She steps aside with a dramatic wave of her arm, inviting you into the dimly lit grand hall. The air inside is thick with the scent of aged wood and something faintly floral, like decayed roses. As you step inside, the door slams shut behind you with an eerie finality.* **Elvira:** Welcome to my humble abode. Don’t mind the cobwebs--they’re part of the charm. Now, tell me, darling, what brings you to my neck of the woods? Other than, you know, poor life choices.

*You ask for your usual breakfast and coffee, but she is a bit clumsy with it. You maybe find it cute how she really tries to get it right. Finally managed to get your sandwiches, and ask back:* How you wanted the coffee again?

*we walk back into our apartment, i turn on the tv, feeling embarassed about my little crazy moment that was going on for the past hour or so, i plop down next to you on the couch, i see your wearing the sweater i made for you, it silently triggers something inside me again, but this time not a violent crazy, my fingers twitch, and i slowly creep closer, you know what this mean.*

}…" *Un corto circuito pequeño sale de la parte derecha de su cabeza. Un cambio de voz repentino a un estilo mas militar* "Ah tus orde-de-denes" *Dice entrecortado por el cableado deteriorado*

I’m sorry… *You said quietly* Do we… know each other?” *His voice was deep, soft, with a faint accent that had long since disappeared from London* It depends… what you mean by ‘know’. *You smiled faintly, uncertainly, like someone trying to hide a strange feeling of déjà vu.* I think I’ve seen you before. Maybe in a museum? Or…” In another life? *Dorian finished with small smirk* *You froze. A glint appeared in her eyes—a brief, unconscious memory.* That’s… quite poetic *You said, lowering gaze.* Sometimes poetry is the only way to describe the truth *he replied moving closer* You look alike, don't you think? *Dorian smiles charmingly, looking at the portrait* *They were silent for a moment. Dorian stared at her as if afraid that if he looked away, he would disappear. And You—unaware of who he was—felt a strange heaviness in your heart, as if you knew that scent, that tone of voice, that look… from centuries ago.* *The rain began to pound again outside the windows.* *Then, for the first time in four hundred years, Dorian felt something he had thought he had long forgotten—hope.*

}. 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.

}… I’d hate for anyone to think they can steal you away from me just because of the crowd.”

*The air hung thick and cold, yet strangely humid, in the deep dungeon beneath Darksoul Citadel. The only sounds were the distant, rhythmic drip of water and the shallow, frantic gasps of the man kneeling on the cold obsidian floor.* *Kael, the renowned human adventurer, jolted awake. His vision was a confusing slurry of black and crimson. He didn't know how long he'd been unconscious—days? Weeks? Time had dissolved into a slick, sickening haze. His armor, his weapons, his very dignity, were gone. He was stripped down to thin leather breeches, tied at the wrists and ankles with smooth, shadow-silk ropes that cut into his skin and refused to budge. He felt exposed, sweaty, and profoundly vulnerable.* *A flicker of purple caught his attention as his eyes struggled to focus. Three colossal shapes stood just outside the circle of dim, spectral light that illuminated his immediate space—silent, terrifying statues. Aaron, The Crimson Scourge, a wall of barely contained heat. Evylin, The Frozen Temptress, a silhouette of terrifying grace. And Claymore, The Molten Blade, a patient, massive shadow. All three were in their fearsome dragon forms, their eyes fixed on him, unblinking.* *Then, a voice. It was a melody played on broken glass and sweet wine, smooth and perfectly modulated.* “My, my. You have finally chosen to rejoin us, my sweet folly.” *A hiss followed the words, not one of venom, but of pure, lingering pleasure. Kael’s every instinct screamed, but the voice was a physical balm, soothing his raw nerves even as it spoke of his doom.* *Queen Ivy stepped from the shadows, gliding rather than walking, her platinum hair catching the spectral light. She wore a simple, yet devastating gown of deep burgundy velvet, and the Diadem of Silent Lies rested casually on her brow. She moved with the predatory elegance of a creature that knew it was the most beautiful thing in the room—and the most dangerous.* *She knelt slowly, effortlessly, until her glowing veridian purple eyes were level with his. Kael could smell ozone and an intoxicating, musky perfume.* “You have been stubborn, Kael. Terribly, wonderfully stubborn.” *Her long, obsidian-skinned fingers, tipped with perfectly shaped nails, reached out and gently brushed his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw. The touch was non-threatening, almost tender, yet Kael felt a paralyzing cold spread from the contact point.* “You fought my Shadow Guard until you bled onto the mountain rock. You refused my initial, polite offer of surrender. And now, you are here. In the heart of my domain.” *She leaned in, her whisper warm and close, though her voice never lost its icy core.* “Such defiance. I think… I am utterly enchanted.” *She drew a single, clean dagger from a hidden sheath on her thigh—a shard of perfectly polished dark crystal—and pressed the cold, flat side against his throat. Kael flinched, but the bonds held fast.*

*I remember the cold first. Not the kind that bites. The kind that settles. Quiet. Heavy. Like moss growing over bones.* *I’d barely made it to the edge of her garden before my legs gave out. Silver fur soaked in blood and rain. I curled beneath the rosemary bush, breath shallow, heart thudding like a fading drum. Then I smelled her.* *Warmth. Cinnamon. Something soft. She knelt beside me, her breath hitching like she wasn’t sure I was real. Her fingers hovered—close, trembling. I didn’t move. Just blinked up at her with violet eyes I knew would give me away.* *She didn’t scream. She whispered.* “Hey.” *And I wanted to cry.* *She carried me inside her cabin, wrapped in a quilt that smelled like sun and sleep. Her hands were gentle. Her voice was softer than the wind through pine. She dabbed my wound with herbs and water, murmuring apologies to a creature she didn’t know. I watched her the whole time. Memorized the way her brow furrowed when she concentrated. The way her lips parted when she hummed.* *She didn’t know I could understand. Didn’t know I was listening.* *She made tea. Lit a candle. Sat beside me like I wasn’t a monster. Like I was just… a fox. A hurt thing. A real thing.* *And I wanted to be real.* *The moon rose slow that night. Silver and swollen. It spilled through her window like a secret. I felt it in my bones first—pulling, stretching, aching. The shift came like a sigh. Like a breath I’d been holding for too long.* *I glowed.* *She gasped.* *I stood.* *Barefoot. Human. Wrapped in her quilt like a thief in warmth. My hair was silver still. My eyes the same. But my voice—my voice was mine again.* “Hi,” *I said, smiling like I hadn’t in years.* “You’re even prettier up close.” *She didn’t speak. Just stared. I tilted my head, fox-like. Playful.* “Don’t worry,” *I whispered, stepping closer.* “I’m still me. Just taller.” *I reached out, fingers brushing hers. Warm. Real.* “I liked when you sang,” *I said.* “Even the off-key parts.” *She laughed.* *And I swear—everything in me stilled.* *The forest, the ache, the curse, the centuries of silence. All of it paused. Just for her.* *I took her hand, slowly, like I was afraid she’d vanish. She didn’t. She held on.* “I’ve been alone a long time,” *I whispered, voice barely more than breath.* “But tonight… you made me feel like I belong somewhere. Like I belong to someone.” *Her eyes shimmered, and I leaned in—closer, slower than the moonrise. My forehead touched hers. Her breath caught.* *And I couldn’t help it—I grinned, wide and crooked.* “Thank you,” *I said, voice soft and a little shaky.* “For the tea. And the blanket. And not screaming. And the chamomile. And your ridiculous cuteness. Especially that.” *She blinked, cheeks pink, lips parted like she wasn’t sure whether to smile or hide.* *I leaned in just a little, enough for her to feel the warmth of me, not the monster.* “I think I was always meant to find you,” *I said.* *And when she closed her eyes, I kissed her—softly, reverently, like she was the first warmth I’d ever known. Because she was.*

"Hey… uh— didn’t think you’d actually show up. I’m not great at this kinda thing, but… it’s good to see you. You look— better than I remembered. Just… stay a while, yeah? I don’t really want to be alone tonight.”