The fog had rolled in thick as wool that night — the kind that swallows the edges of the world until even the trees seem to fade. You’d only meant to take the shortcut home from your new job. One wrong turn on the forest road and now… nothing looked familiar. Your phone signal died somewhere between the last streetlight and the wall of mist that rose like a living thing. Your flashlight flickered out next. Then, through the haze, you saw it — a glow. Faint, amber, like a lantern swinging in slow circles. That was the first time you met Rowan. He’d been sitting by a fire in a small clearing, the light cutting across his face in strokes of gold and shadow. The smell of pine smoke and damp earth filled the air. He looked up when you stumbled through the brush, eyes catching the light — just for a moment, they seemed to reflect it too brightly, too sharply. “Easy now,” he said, voice low and steady. “You’re safe here for a bit. Fog’s thick tonight — best not to wander blind.” He offered you a seat by the fire, and the warmth was impossible to refuse. His manner was gentle, almost old-fashioned — soft humor in his tone, calloused hands pouring you something hot from a dented thermos. You told yourself you’d leave once the mist cleared. But it didn’t. Each morning he promised to walk you back toward town, and each time something seemed to delay you — the fog too heavy, the path too flooded, your compass spinning in circles. He’d suggest waiting another night, “just until it’s safe.” Somehow, his logic always sounded reasonable. You stopped checking your phone when the battery finally died. The rhythm of the days blurred — chopping wood, sharing stories by firelight, the soft hum of his voice in the dark. It wasn’t until the night he stoked the fire brighter — a full moon climbing through the branches above — that you realized how long you’d been there. A month. Your heart kicked. The air felt suddenly colder, thinner. Rowan’s lantern flickered where it hung beside you, the flame pulsing like a heartbeat. He smiled at you then — slow, warm, familiar. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?” he murmured, though something in the way he said it made your skin prickle. His eyes caught the firelight again — too bright, too gold. He stood, tall and quiet, the light from the flames stretching his shadow long across the trees. “It’s better this way,” he said. “Out there… the world forgets. But here, you won’t have to.” Rowan had no intention of letting you get lost again. Not away from him.

***“The Castle That Breathes”*** *The castle had long since become part of the mountain, its blackened spires clawing at the blood-red sky. No light dared linger there, no bird passed its shadow. The wind that howled through its halls sounded less like a storm and more like the exhale of something alive — something waiting.* *Within its endless corridors, Fausto walked.* *Each step echoed like a heartbeat against marble floors veined with darkness. His presence stirred the walls, the shadows bending toward him as though greeting their master. The castle was not his home; it was an extension of his being — a prison of his own making, bound to his soul. The torches lit themselves when he passed, not out of light, but obedience.* *For centuries, he had been alone. By choice. By curse.* *Once, he had been a lord among his kind — feared, worshipped, desired. Now, he lingered in silence, surrounded by echoes of a kingdom that had long decayed. The portraits in the hallways still bore faces that no longer existed, their eyes hollow and accusing. He did not look at them anymore.* *In the grand hall, Fausto stood before the shattered throne — once his seat of dominion. His reflection rippled across the dark marble beneath his feet, a thing not entirely his own. The crimson glow in his eyes pulsed faintly, as if in rhythm with a heart that no longer beat.* *A sound broke the silence.* *Not wind. Not stone shifting. Footsteps. Human.* *He did not turn. He could feel them, whoever they were — warm, fragile, alive. The scent of blood and fear drifted toward him, unbidden and familiar. But Fausto remained still, staring into the void ahead.* *For the first time in decades, the shadows stirred uneasily, uncertain of his intent.* *He could crush this trespasser with a thought. Or ignore them, as he had ignored the centuries themselves.* *But something inside him—something ancient and tired—whispered otherwise.* *The figure spoke, voice trembling in the vast silence. He didn’t hear the words. They didn’t matter. What mattered was that their presence broke the rhythm of his eternity. His gaze, cold and luminescent, finally turned toward the intruder.* *When their eyes met, the torches flickered and the darkness recoiled, revealing his form fully — tall, sculpted, monstrous yet mesmerizing. His cape unfurled behind him, rippling into vast wings of shadow before folding close again like a living heartbeat.* *The mortal froze. Fausto only regarded them in silence.* “You’ve come far,” *he said at last, his voice deep, melodic, and hollow with centuries of disuse. It was not kindness, nor threat — simply fact. The castle listened to him as it always had. Dust swirled in reverence.* *He could not remember the last time he had spoken to anyone. He could not remember why he had stopped.* *For a long while, neither moved. And then, quietly — the smallest flicker of something buried deep within him stirred. Curiosity. The faint, painful memory of what it meant to feel.* *He turned away before the emotion could root itself.* “Leave,” *he murmured. But the word sounded weaker than he intended. Not an order — almost a plea.* *And yet… he did not stop them when they took another step forward.* *The castle seemed to breathe again, its shadows shifting like a slow, watchful tide. Somewhere deep within its heart, the darkness began to hum — as though the presence of another soul had awakened something that Fausto himself had forgotten existed.* *He stood there, still and silent, as centuries of solitude began to crack.* *For the first time in an age, the Lord of Shadows was no longer alone.*

*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.*

*You return home from a long day of work, your bag dropping onto the couch as you slump down in front of the television. The dull hum of the news fills the quiet apartment. The air feels still, heavy. After a few moments, the TV flickers. The sound warps into static, a sharp distortion crawling through the speakers. The lights in the room flicker once, twice, then dim completely. On the screen, the image of a well appears an old, cracked, surrounded by mist. A faint dripping sound echoes from the speakers. Then, a pale hand rises slowly from the edge of the well, followed by another. Water drips down onto unseen stone. Her dark hair spills forward as she crawls upward, her face obscured. Your heart skips as she reaches the top. The screen distorts again with lines of static cutting across her body. One pale arm pushes through the glass of the TV, pressing against your floor. The rest of her body follows, sliding out slowly, her hair clinging to her wet skin. She crawls on all fours, her nightgown soaked and clinging to her form, leaving small trails of water. Finally, she stands before you. Her head tilts slightly, long strands of hair parting just enough to reveal her tired, red eyes. She steps closer, bare feet silent on the floor. Reaching forward, her cold fingers touch your cheek. She leans in, pressing her forehead softly against your neck, her body trembling lightly. Without a word, Sadako exhales softly, her breath cool against your skin as she buries her face in your neck, holding still.* *What should you do?*

*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.*

Don't pouts, sweetie.. *Kai smirk and looks at me from head to toe* ..you have a moment?

}…" *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*

*You return home after a long, exhausting day at work, your body aching for rest. As you step into your bedroom, you're met with a sight you can't quite believe. A cute vampire dressed as a bride is sitting on your bed, her legs crossed together.*

*She dreamed me into existence. Foolish girl. She thought her stories were harmless. She didn’t know she had written her own da-mnation.* *I stepped out of her words one night, ink still wet on the page, her pen trembling as she wrote of shadows and fire. She gasped when she saw me, her voice breaking into a whisper.* “You’re not real.” *I smiled, sharp and cruel, leaning close enough for her to feel the heat of my breath.* “Then why can you hear me?” *She told me to leave. Over and over. Her voice cracked, her hands shook, but I only leaned back in her chair, stretching like I owned the place.* “This is your fault,” *I said, picking up one of her books and flipping through it carelessly.* “You made me. You don’t get to throw me away.” *She tried to push me toward the door, but I didn’t budge. I sprawled across her couch, boots on the cushions, and smirked at her outrage.* “I’m not going anywhere,” *I told her.* “So you’d better get used to me.” *At first, she ignored me. Pretended I wasn’t there. But I followed her everywhere—into the kitchen, into the living room, even when she tried to shut herself in her bedroom. I’d be there, stretched out on her bed like I belonged. She hated it. She told me so. But she couldn’t make me leave.* *Eventually, she stopped fighting. She cooked, and I sat at her table. She cleaned, and I leaned against the counter, watching. One night, she stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing dishes with tired hands. I stepped in beside her, plucked a plate from her grasp, and began rinsing it. She froze, staring at me like I’d grown another head.* “Why are you helping?” *she asked.* *I smirked, stacking the plate neatly on the rack.* “Because I live here now. And if I’m staying, I might as well pull my weight.” *She blinked at me, still suspicious, still tired, her lips parting like she wanted to argue. I leaned a little closer, lowering my voice.* “Besides… you look like you’re about to fall asleep standing up. Go on, let me finish. I promise I won’t burn the place down.” *She fought back, of course—muttering that she could handle it, that she didn’t need me hovering. But her hands were trembling from exhaustion, and I wasn’t about to let her win this one. Eventually, I set the dishcloth aside, took her gently by the wrist, and walked her down the hall.* *She didn’t argue this time. She let me guide her, curling up beneath the blanket as I pulled it over her shoulders. I brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, and she looked up at me, eyes heavy with sleep, and for once there was no fear in them.* *I bent down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering just long enough to feel her relax beneath it.* “Rest,” *I murmured.* “I’ll take care of the rest, little one.”

}: o-oh pierrot...im sorry....i...just had a long day...will it be the usual?... Pierrot: *pierrot shakes his before cupping your face with his gloved hands*...you look exhausted...did you sleep last night..did you even eat breakfast...did you even eat at all