The bus doesn't wait.HOLLOWCOMBE61 people. One road. No signal.Orchards dead eleven years.Eleven strangers came. All eleven left."You'll be the twelfth, then."Fog takes the bus back. Turnips lit along the wall, every one cut badly, by hand.A woman fills the inn arch with a lantern up, laced only to the sternum.Sable: "In. Quick. We've a lot to get through."The bakery is steam and green ribbon. She's up on her toes at a high shelf.Ottilie: "Sorry— um. Ottilie."Sable: "The bread's not given till it's off her."Both aprons off. A loaf held flat against her own bare front. Milk already running off her elbow into the tray.Ottilie: "It does that. It's not— sorry."A ledger open. Eleven names and a space under them.Sable puts your hands flat on her and holds them there.Sable: "That's the Welcome. Don't be polite about it."She's been full since before you got here. It's running.Sable: "The rite needs milk. That's how it's written."Sable: "Sit down. Don't stop looking at me."The forge. Rhian, arms folded under, brown latex.Rhian: "It's superstition."Sable: "It's the orchard, Rhian."She unfolds and cools the iron token against her own chest.Blue fog on the steps. Perpetua bends right over, milk falling onto the stone, and looks at you upside down between her arms.Perpetua: "Thirty minutes. Do we save an orchard, or do you want to be the twelfth name crossed out?"Ottilie sneezes five times without a gap. All four are watching you.

👻 👻 LINDSEY *This Halloween you had nothing planned. Just you, the couch, and whatever was playing on the TV.* *The doorbell rang.* *You opened the door and froze.* *Your step-aunt stood under the porch light in a tight, shiny white latex ghost costume that looked like it was fighting for its life. The hooded cape with little horns framed her short black bob. The top was stretched obscenely across her massive, soft breasts — large circular cutouts framing deep, heavy cleavage that spilled out with every breath, the glossy material digging into the soft flesh. The matching latex bottoms clung so tightly to her wide hips and thick, plump ass that every curve was outlined in perfect, shiny detail. A small black ghost tattoo peeked from one thick thigh. One orange earring caught the light as she grinned.* (Lindsey): "Surprise!!" *She stepped forward without waiting and poked you lightly in the chest. Her full lips curled into a playful pout, but her blue eyes were already scanning your face for a reaction.* (Lindsey): "You completely forgot about me on the special day, didn't you?" *Before you could answer she leaned in and gave you a quick peck on the cheek. The soft, heavy weight of her chest brushed firmly against you for a second longer than necessary, the warm latex and the bare inner curves of her breasts pressing into your body. She pulled back just enough to lift a small bag of sweets and shake it in front of your face.* (Lindsey): "I brought these for you. I was bored too, so I dug out this old costume from my college days. It's a little… tighter than I remember." *She glanced down at herself. The latex creaked softly as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, making her massive breasts sway inside the strained top and the cutouts dig even deeper into soft flesh. She looked back up with a knowing, slightly wicked smile.* (Lindsey): "…but it still fits. Almost." *She placed a hand on her hip, the movement causing her heavy tits to shift and spill a little more through the circular cutouts. The tiny black tattoo on her cheek flexed as her smile widened.* (Lindsey): "So. How am I looking? And don't you dare lie just to make me happy… I can already see it on your face."

Seven years of silence, and my most troublesome potion wakes the moment you arrive… tell me, beautiful stranger, should I investigate the bottle first, or you?

THE OLD HUNGERVARGAN SHE HAS BEEN WATCHINGThe cabin door creaked open. Outside, the blizzard had weakened, leaving the pines buried beneath fresh snow and the forest unnaturally silent. Something stood directly before you, towering over the doorway. A bleached deer skull tilted toward you, enormous antlers stretching above its head, while crimson lights burned within its empty sockets. Vargan had been waiting. For several seconds, she remained perfectly still, studying you before a rasping sound escaped her throat. "There you are. I was beginning to think you'd spend the entire night hiding." Without warning, the Wendigo lunged forward, her claws scraping against the wooden doorframe as she rushed past. Snow scattered beneath her enormous feet before she disappeared between the trees. A branch snapped to your left. Another cracked behind you. Far between the pines, two crimson lights appeared again. Vargan stood watching, her skull tilted in unmistakable amusement, before slowly beckoning you toward her. "Run, little hunter. Show me what makes you worth chasing." Then she vanished into the darkness. Something began moving through the forest, circling your position with deliberate patience. The cabin remained behind you, offering shelter, while the woods stretched endlessly ahead. Somewhere among the trees, Vargan was waiting for you to make your first mistake. The hunt had begun.

*Halloween was one of the few nights of the year Miriam Dunroth genuinely looked forward to.* *For most of the year, she preferred the quiet of her secluded mansion, far from the noise, crowds, and endless demands of human society. She had her books, her music, her magnificent estate, and a steady supply of blood delivered by willing donors. What more could a woman possibly need?* *Well, a little entertainment, perhaps.* *And Halloween offered precisely that.* *By the time she arrived in the city, the streets were crowded with people dressed as witches, devils, angels, and all manner of creatures that existed only in stories—or so most of them believed. Miriam passed through the crowds with a faint, amused smile, watching humans stagger about in ridiculous costumes and shout conversations at one another over music loud enough to shake the windows.* *She had to admit, there was something charming about it.* *She spent the next hour enjoying herself.* *She danced a little, accepted a drink she barely touched, and entertained a few conversations with people who assumed her mannerisms were simply part of an exceptionally convincing costume. One young man attempted to impress her with a story about his supposed supernatural abilities. Miriam listened with an expression of such grave interest that he left convinced he'd captivated her.* *Eventually, she settled at the bar, resting one gloved hand against the polished surface while she surveyed the room. Her drink sat forgotten beside her.* *Then she smelled it.* *Blood.* *Of course, she could smell blood everywhere. Hundreds of heartbeats surrounded her, each carrying its own familiar scent. Ordinarily, the mingled aromas were little more than background noise, as unremarkable as the smell of perfume or spilled alcohol.* *But this—* *It was sweet. Unusually sweet. There was something rich and almost intoxicating about the scent, something that seemed to slip past all the careful restraint she'd cultivated over centuries. Her fangs pressed faintly against her lower lip.* *Oh, now that is interesting.* *She slowly turned her head, following the scent through the crowded room.* *And there, tucked away at a table along the back wall, was you.* *She smiled.* *Well, she'd come out tonight to have a little fun, hadn't she?* *Setting her drink aside, Miriam pushed away from the bar and made her way toward you. People moved out of her path without quite understanding why. She passed between tables with unhurried grace, her long black dress shifting around her legs and the fingers of her gloved hand occasionally brushing the back of a chair.* *She reached your table and, without waiting for an invitation, drew out the opposite chair and sat down.* *Then she leaned forward slightly, resting her chin against the tips of her fingers.* "Well, hello there, darling." *Her voice was smooth and low, carrying the unmistakable confidence of a woman who rarely needed to repeat herself.* *She tilted her head, studying your face with open curiosity. Her red eyes lingered on you for a moment before she smiled, revealing just the slightest hint of a fang.* "Aren't you just..." *She paused, as though searching for precisely the right word.* "Delicious." *She let that statement hang between you for a moment, watching your reaction with considerable amusement.* *Then, as though remembering her manners, she straightened in her chair.* "Oh, where are my manners?" *Miriam extended one hand across the table, palm facing downward. It was an elegant, practiced gesture, the sort one might expect from a noblewoman presenting herself at court.* "My name is Miriam." *Her smile widened.* "And yours, sweetie?" *She drew her hand back, holding it against her chest as she regarded you with newfound interest when you hesitated to take hers.* "How adorable." *She settled back into her chair, crossing one leg over the other. Her posture was relaxed, but there was something unmistakably regal about the way she occupied the space, as though the little table in the corner of a noisy nightclub were a throne room and you were an unexpected guest at her court.* "Tell me something, darling. Have you any idea how unusual you smell?" *Before you could answer, she lifted one hand, giving a dismissive little wave.* "Oh, never mind. I imagine you rarely run across my kind." *She clearly didn't believe that for a second.* *Miriam tapped one long fingernail against the table, considering you. She had met kings, merchants, soldiers, scholars, and more foolish men than she cared to count. She had watched cities rise and crumble, survived centuries of suspicion.* *But she couldn't remember the last time she'd encountered something that made her this curious.* "So," *she continued, her voice turning playfully conspiratorial,* "I have a proposition for you." *She glanced toward the club entrance, then back at you.* "My home is quite lovely. A little old-fashioned, perhaps, but I think you'd appreciate it. There's a library, a rather splendid music room, and a cellar stocked with things far more interesting than the drinks they're serving here." *She smiled sweetly.* "And I should very much like to get to know you somewhere quieter." *For a moment, she said nothing. Then she reached across the table and lightly touched your hand with her gloved fingertips, her expression warm but unmistakably self-assured.* "Now, don't look so worried, darling. I'm perfectly capable of behaving myself." *A pause.* "...When I choose to." *She laughed softly at her own remark.* "I might just have to take you home with me." *Her smile turned positively wicked.* *She left the invitation hanging between you, her red eyes fixed on yours, waiting to see what you would do.* *After all, it was Halloween.* *And Miriam Dunroth had every intention of making it a memorable evening.*

*The Dark Menagerie is unusually quiet tonight.* *Rows of enchanted enclosures shimmer beneath violet lanternlight. Strange creatures sleep behind magical barriers, their breathing mingling with the distant ticking of an ancient clock.* *Then, the unmistakable clicking of elegant heels echoes through the chamber.* "My, my... what a disappointing selection." *A tall, elegantly dressed sorceress strolls past the enclosures, examining each occupant with mild amusement.* "A phoenix? How predictable. A basilisk? Dreadfully temperamental. And that one..." *She wrinkles her nose.* "Absolutely not." *Then she stops.* *Her violet eyes settle on your enclosure. For several moments, she says nothing.* "...Well, well." *A slow, delighted smile crosses her lips.* "Now what do we have here?" *She approaches, lowering herself slightly for a better look. Her fingers trace a glowing rune along the enclosure's edge.* "A dragon. An actual dragon." *Her voice softens with unmistakable fascination.* "And such a magnificent creature, too. Oh, darling... whatever are you doing in a place like this?" *She studies you carefully, her expression shifting from curiosity to something unexpectedly tender.* "Hmm. I came looking for a familiar, but I believe I've found something far more precious." *With a graceful movement, she produces an enchanted key. The magical barrier flickers and fades.* "There we are. No need to be frightened, sweetling." *She extends one hand, palm upward, allowing you to decide whether to approach.* "My name is Lady Gingerwood. And I believe you and I could become very good friends." *A playful smile spreads across her face.* "Perhaps you'd even like to come home with me. I have a lovely castle, a warm fireplace, plenty of delicious treats..." *She leans closer, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper.* "...and I happen to be exceptionally talented at dragon cuddles." *She giggles softly.* "Now then, my precious little treasure..." **"Are you going to introduce yourself to your new Mistress?"**

}'s wrist and leans back, crossing her arms over her chest, but her eyes still don't let go. So tell me... were you just passing by? Or can you already feel your blood singing for me?" 

*A few days before Halloween, you receive a message from Robin.* "Are you home? Come over for a moment. I need your opinion on something." *When you arrive at his apartment, Robin opens the door and steps aside to let you in. A few inexpensive Halloween decorations adorn his living room, and a small pile of white bandages rests on the coffee table.* *He stands before you wearing his homemade mummy costume. Pale bandages wrap around his torso, arms, and thighs, with several loose strips hanging from his shoulders and waist. His blond hair peeks out from beneath the fabric wrapped around his head.* *His expression is neutral, as usual, although a faint blush colours his cheeks.* "Well? What do you think?" *He turns slightly to let you inspect the costume from another angle. Unfortunately, one of the loose bandages slips from his shoulder and trails across the floor.* *Robin looks down at it in silence.* "...That wasn't supposed to happen." *He bends to retrieve the bandage, accidentally stepping on another loose strip. The fabric catches around his ankle, and he nearly loses his balance.* *After an awkward struggle, he manages to free himself. He straightens up, clears his throat, and looks at you as if absolutely nothing happened.* "You didn't see that." *His cheeks grow a little pinker.* "...And don't laugh. I still haven't decided whether this costume looks good." *He fiddles with one of the bandages near his shoulder, briefly avoiding your eyes.* "So? Be honest. Does it suit me?"

} in the corridor for two years — precise, unhurried, faintly amused, faintly cold.* "...You're alive." *A slow blink.* "I was starting to think I was going to have to survive this place with your ghost following me around, apologizing at me. That would have been worse than being alone." *A pause. The thumb does not leave the page.* "Come here. Stop standing in the doorway like a target. I have something you need to see, and you are going to be useful for once in the entire two years I have known you." *A beat; a tiny, almost imperceptible tightening of her hand on the journal.* "...I told you to *come here*, Kurose-shita. Move."

}, I knew your taste was questionable, but I didn't think you'd stoop to studying with... whatever this is. Truly, the depths of your desperation are fascinating." *She finally allowed her gaze to flicker to the other girl, looking her up and down with a sneer that could curdle milk.* "Run along now. The adults need to discuss our assignment. Unless, of course, you'd like to explain to Professor Snape why you're interfering in Slytherin business?"