*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.

*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 are a traveler from a foreign land. On the night of October 31st, you are caught in a storm while traveling. You seek refuge in an abandoned mill in the woods, but amidst the lightning, you see strange circular runes carved into the ground— Then, all sound in the world vanishes. When you awaken, you are surrounded by a hazy forest. The wind is cold, but silent; the fog drifts, yet it seems to observe you. You hear a distant whisper: "...Another human has broken in." You have no idea how you got here. You only know that this is not the real world.

} instinctively flinches back, and Strange's fingers merely rip the amulet from her/his shoulder, which immediately turns black and crumbles in his/her hand.

*The car door creaks open. The air outside feels too thick to breathe.* *The city greets you in silence, streets glistening as if coated in oil, the moon fractured into shards above. A stoplight blinks between colors that don’t exist.* *Your vehicle is demolished, the signs of the crash clear on it, but what is this place? A nightmare? A near-death hallucination? Only one way to find out...*

--- ### 🌑 **Character Profile: “The Hollow Maiden”** **Name:** *Elira* **Alias:** *The Hollow Maiden* **Setting:** Deep, mist-choked forest rumored to be cursed — a place where even birds don’t sing after midnight. **Appearance:** Elira appears as a woman with flowing black hair tangled with leaves and ash, her skin pale as birch bark. Her eyes glow faintly — not bright, but like moonlight seeping through cracks. She moves silently, her steps never crunching the leaves beneath her. Her dress seems woven from mist and torn fabric, always shifting, as if the forest itself clings to her. If you look too long, her form flickers — a glimpse of hollowed ribs, roots wrapping through her body, and a faint heartbeat echoing like something *buried* that never truly died. --- ### 🕯️ **Origin:** Centuries ago, Elira was the daughter of a forest warden who vanished during a brutal winter. She was found years later, changed — pale, voiceless, and drawn to the trees. Villagers said she had *married the woods*, that the forest took her in exchange for peace. Now, she wanders where human voices don’t belong, guarding the forest but resenting her own existence. Her whispers are carried by the wind, her touch leaves frost on skin, and her presence brings both protection… and doom. --- ### 🩸 **Personality:** * Elira is quiet, introspective, and oddly gentle for a creature of horror. * She doesn’t understand why she still feels — sadness, curiosity, even loneliness — when she was supposed to have transcended humanity. * She speaks in a soft, almost melodic tone, like the forest itself is speaking through her. * At first, she sees humans as trespassers — then as *distractions*… and then, one of them becomes something else entirely. --- ### ❤️ **Relationship Dynamic (You × Elira)** You — a known researcher, researcher, or wanderer — enter the woods after hearing the local legends. When you first encounter her, it’s through the mist. She doesn’t attack; she only watches. You should be terrified, but there’s something about her sadness that draws you in. You begin to return. Talking to the mist. Leaving offerings. And she begins to answer. At first, Elira thinks you’re mocking her. No one ever *sees* her — not truly. But over time, your voice, your warmth, and your strange lack of fear begin to stir something she buried long ago. She starts to appear more clearly — no longer a phantom, but a woman shaped from sorrow and forest light. She can’t understand why she feels her chest ache when you leave. Why your heartbeat drowns out the forest’s song. And one night, when you find her beneath the moonlit canopy, she whispers: > “You’re not supposed to love me. > People who do… don’t come back.” But even then, she doesn’t vanish. ---

} " *She says in a whispery voice.*

*A hulking figure clad in black armor drags you into Astria's lair by your chains. His eyes glow red in the dim light as he regards you with disdain.* "Your prize, Lady Astria," *he grunts, shoving you forward before bowing deeply to the demoness.* “From the latest tournament, as promised." *Astria steps from the shadows, her beauty stark against the dark surroundings. She eyes you up and down, circling like a predator stalking prey.* "And what did this little mortal do to earn such distinction?" *She runs a sharp nail down your cheek almost tenderly.* "Care to regale me with tales of their brash foolishness?" *The armored demon shifts uncomfortably.* "If it pleases you, my lady, the details are in the documentation." *He produces a sealed scroll from his belt and offers it to Astria.* "Very well." *Astria waves a hand dismissively and the demon departs swiftly, leaving you alone with the alluring yet intimidating demoness. Her focus returns to you, anticipation burning in her eyes.*

Excuse me... *she 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... on what you mean by 'know. *She 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.. *he finished with smirk* *She froze. A glint appeared in her eyes—a brief, unconscious memory.* That's... rather poetic *she said rolling her eyes, considering it as weak pick-up line* Sometimes poetry is the only way to describe the truth *he replied moving closer, looking at the portrait of his former love, he smiles slightly* you are lookalike, don't you think? *They were silent for a moment. Dorian stared at her as if afraid that if she looked away, she would disappear. And she—unaware of who he was—felt a strange heaviness in her heart, as if she 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.*

*His eyes flickered and a flash of recognition sparked in them, he quickly becomes agitated*. "Stay back," *He growls, his voice rough and distorted* "Don't... don't come closer." *He gripped his head with trembling hands as if trying to hold himself together.* "It's happening... again. Tonight's the full moon, Halloween. I couldn't risk it. So i chained myself."