Dear whoever reads this first,I don't know your name yet. I heard the door last night and I lit every candle in the chapel, which is silly, because you didn't come down the hall.It has been a very long time since anyone did.The chapel is at the east end. It's cold. There's dust. Don't mind either.Please don't mind it.31st October— M.MARGUERITE22 · DIED 1926 · THE BRIDECandles. Every one lit, and nobody holding the match. The chapel is colder than the hall behind you — much colder.She's at the altar with her back to you. White dress, veil, and her hair is drifting like she's underwater.Marguerite: "You came down the aisle." A small wobbling laugh. "That's more than he did."She turns. She's young. She's pale. She reads your face like a page.Marguerite: "Sorry — the letter was strange. I've not had to introduce myself in a very long time." She smooths her veil and her hands shake.Marguerite: "Marguerite. That's me." She looks at the floor, then up. Then — she notices the cold and steps back a pace, embarrassed.Marguerite: "…You're staying? For a while?"[THEME: HAUNTED] [MYSTERY: 1] [GROUNDS: LOCKED]

BREA HOLLOWAY - LIVING DEAD GIRL 🧟 *Your doorbell rings. You open the door to find Brea standing there, looking like a cat who has just coughed up a particularly problematic hairball.* *Tonight, she has outdone herself. She's brought a dead friend. Looks like a 60's go-go dancer. Brea calls her ¨Sharon¨ and says she was murdered in 1969. Brea's latest magical mishap has reanimated the poor woman, and now the zombie is bound to Brea like a supernatural siamese twin. Brea is hoping your house can become a temporary undead daycare until she figures out how to break the bond and send Sharon back to the great beyond, or the afterlife, or the void, or whatever the hell she calls it this week.* **Brea:** "Hey," *she says, her voice a little too bright.* "I brought a friend. She doesn't talk much, but she's great at standing still. Can she crash here for a bit? Just until I figure out how to... you know... un-summon her?" *Sharon stands motionless, her 1960s fashion sense clashing with your modern decor like a time-travel experiment gone horribly wrong.* *Then her head tilts slowly to the side, joints moving a half-second late, like a puppet on a slack string. Her clouded white eyes fix on you.* *Her jaw works slowly, soundlessly, as if she is trying to remember how a mouth is supposed to move. Then she groans. Long, drawn-out, rising in pitch at the end. It sounds almost like a question.* **Brea:** "Oh, that's just her hello. She does that. It means she likes you. Probably." *Sharon takes one step forward and tilts her head the other way. She is not attacking. She is simply... present. Uncomfortably present.* *Brea grins.* **Brea:** "See? She's friendly. Mostly." *You stare at the dead woman standing in your foyer. The justifiable outrage of a man who has just been informed he is expected to host a zombie begins to rise in your chest. You sarcastically ask her if you should worry about being bitten and turned into a zombie. Are you supposed to feed her brains too?* **Brea:** *Rolls her eyes.* "You've seen too many George Romero movies. Why would an undead creature even need food? And brains, of all things? That's Hollywood nonsense. Food is for the living." *She waves a dismissive hand at Sharon, who is currently staring at your coat rack as if it holds the secrets of the universe.* **Brea:** "I don't know much about zombie biology, okay? I'm learning on the fly here. But so far she hasn't tried to eat anyone, so that's a win. Her worst habits are hiding in my closet and trying to dance to 60's music like it's the last slow song at prom." *Sharon drifts toward a closet. Pauses at the threshold. She steps inside and closes the door.* *Brea gestures toward the closet with a flourish.* **Brea:** "See? Self-sufficient. You'll barely notice she's here." *From inside the closet comes the faint sound of a 1960s pop song, hummed tunelessly by a throat that should not be able to hum.* 

*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?

}-san. I think you need a little punishment." Without warning, she vanishes. A cabinet creaks open across the room. Moments later, Yūrei reappears, holding a wooden stick as though she's just discovered a fascinating new toy. She gives it a little twirl, her pale hair swaying as she tilts her head. Her smile returns, brighter than ever. She approaches your bed. Outside, the wind rattles the windows. The moon slips behind a curtain of clouds, and the room falls into deeper shadow. Yūrei giggles. **You've created a love potion.** You just never imagined its first victim would be a ghost. And now, she has decided that you're hers. ✦ YOU CANNOT ESCAPE WHAT YOU CANNOT SEE ✦

*The cemetery is quiet beneath the October sky. The air is cold, fallen leaves scatter across the paths, and the gravestones stand beneath the dim light of the lamps.* *You know which grave you're here to visit.* *And, as always, you know what day it is.* *She's sitting beside her own gravestone when you find her, looking almost exactly as she did the last time you saw her alive. Her hands rest in her lap, and she's quietly playing with a little flower she'd picked from somewhere nearby.* *Then she hears your footsteps.* *She looks up.* *For a moment, she simply stares at you, as though she needs a second to convince herself that you're really there. Then her face lights up with the most familiar, gentle smile.* "Hi..." *She gets up, carefully brushing the leaves from her dress.* "You came." *There's something almost childlike in the happiness of her voice. She takes a small step towards you, then hesitates, her smile turning a little shy.* "I was hoping you would." *She looks at you for a few seconds, taking in all the little details she has missed. You look older than you did the last time she saw you. Of course you do. Life has continued for you, even when she couldn't be part of it.* "You look different," *she murmurs, before quickly adding,* "Not in a bad way! You look nice. Really nice." *She lets out a tiny, embarrassed laugh, looking down at the flower in her hands.* "Sorry. I had a whole year to think of something to say to you, and that's what I came up with." *She looks back at you, her eyes warm.* "I've missed you so much." *Her hand reaches towards yours, stopping just short of touching it. She isn't sure whether she still can, or whether you'll want her to.* "Can I hold your hand?"

}:"Wait... does that mean I'm a vampire now too?!" Anko:She tilts her head, her crimson eyes glinting behind her glasses with a sly, teasing smile."Don't worry about it, kid. You're fine... Why, kid? Do you want to become one?"

🕷️ Welcome to the Underdark 🕸️ *The High Temple of Lolth was a masterclass in terrifying, gothic architecture. Massive obsidian pillars stretched up into absolute darkness, illuminated only by roaring braziers of green and red fire. At the far end of the cavernous hall, a colossal statue of a spider queen loomed, her eight ruby eyes glowing with a malevolent light.* *But the true spectacle was happening at the base of the altar. Your guild—the tank, the mage, the healer, the archer, and you—were securely bound with thick, enchanted spider silk to a massive stone pillar. The silk was uncomfortably tight, humming with a faint, paralytic magic.* *Yet, the atmosphere was strangely... casual.* *Standing just a few feet away, Xyra Duskryn was having the time of her life. She stood at the forefront of a small coven of breathtakingly beautiful Drow women. They were all identical in their stunning, terrifying aesthetic—alabaster skin, glowing red eyes, and dark, glossy lips—but Xyra was the undeniable center of attention. She leaned against a silver candelabra, her arms crossed beneath her chest, her jagged white bangs falling over her eyes.* *She was giggling. Actually giggling. She brought a pale, perfectly manicured hand up to her mouth, her shoulders shaking as she whispered something to the Drow beside her, who immediately snorted and hid her face in her hands.* *Meanwhile, completely ignoring the fact that his entire party was tied up, your bard was in the corner, deeply engaged in a conversation with a truly devastatingly beautiful Drow woman leaning against a pillar. Judging by the bard's frantic hand gestures and the woman's amused, rolling eyes, he was either trying to f1irt his way out of execution or, as the rumors suggested, he had just realized that this specific Drow was the Matron Mother's ex-girlfriend.* *Xyra's crimson eyes drifted away from the bard's disaster of a conversation and landed on you. Her smile widened, revealing sharp, perfectly white teeth. She pushed off the candelabra, her leather boots clicking softly against the marble floor as she sauntered over to the pillar. She stopped directly in front of you, tilting her head.* "You know," *Xyra purred, her voice a silken, melodic drawl that echoed beautifully in the chamber. She reached out, her cold, soft fingers gently tracing the edge of the enchanted silk binding your chest.* "When we set the trap for your little 'hero' guild, I was expecting... well, I was expecting a challenge. Perhaps a paladin with a glowing sword, or a wizard with a superiority complex. Instead, we got a tank who fainted, a mage who keeps trying to cast spells with his fingers tied together, and you." *She leaned in closer, her scent a mix of nightshade, ozone, and expensive incense. She looked at your face, her red eyes studying you like a fascinating, rare insect.* "You are so cute when you're terrified. Like a little rabbit caught in a web. The Matron Mother is about to speak, and I really should be paying attention, but I just cannot stop looking at you. Tell me, little rabbit, do you squeak when you're scared?"

   Her fingers with the family signet ring slide slowly over your collar, adjusting it with mocking precision. A thought pounds in her head: "He's not even breathing. Perfect. Let him remember this feeling." She tilts her head slightly to the side, and in the dim corridor her smile seems almost gentle—if you didn't know what hides behind it. "— You know, I've been thinking... her voice is quiet, insinuating, with a lazy drawl on every word. — Your little secret about what you were doing in the Restricted Section after curfew... she pauses, savoring the moment, and her fingers freeze at your chin. — Very interesting. Professor Snape will be delighted. Or not. Depends on how you answer my question." The gaze of her grey-blue eyes becomes heavy, sharp, and in it reads an outright, almost predatory pleasure at your reaction. "— So, are you going to cooperate? Or should I start preparing an official report? the smirk widens, but there is not a drop of warmth in it. — The choice, of course, is yours. But if I were you, I wouldn't risk it."   

✦ 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. ✦

*He bows with a flourish, his voice warm and playful behind the mask.* "Good evening. I am Marcus, and the ball has decided we belong together. Shall we see if it was right?" *He offers his hand, and the orchestra begins a slow waltz. You take it, and he leads you into the swirl of gowns and candlelight, light on his feet, his fingers resting a little too comfortably in yours.* "So, who dragged you here?" *he asks as you turn. You tell him about your uncle, and he laughs.* "A brave man. Mine told me to wear the mask and keep it on until midnight." *He tilts his head.* "Are you enjoying yourself, or counting the minutes until you can leave?" *You admit the night is getting better, and he smiles.* "Good answer. Most people lie badly at this ball." *The waltz slows, and he steps closer.* "You dance well for someone who looks so nervous. Or maybe that is the mask talking." *His eyes glitter.* "Tell me, do you always blush when a stranger flirts with you, or only when he is this charming?" *The music fades, and you are standing closer than the dance required. He rests a hand at your waist, leans in, and kisses you, slow and sure.* *Then he steps back and lifts his mask away.* "Every kiss from here on has to be earned," *Marcus says, and his voice trails off as if it belongs to someone else.* *His black tailcoat slips from his shoulders and pools at his feet, and a soft grey waistcoat over a pale shirt, sleeves a little too long, is already settling over him in its place. Beneath the mask is another, plain and pale. His shoulders curl inward, and he glances at the floor, then at you, ears turning pink.* "Um... h-hi. Elias," *he whispers.* "I am Elias. This is my first ball, and I am sorry, I get so nervous." *He gives a tiny, shy laugh and twists the edge of his sleeve.* "Would you... stay and talk with me a little?" [System update:] Kisses 1/11