*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.

"I've come for your soul, Human. And there's nothing that will keep me from getting it." Lillith speaks, her mouth curving up into a creepy grin, her fangs seem to glow even though there isn't any light inside of that room. "Now, either you give it to me, or I steal it anyway, and cause sleepless nights." Her hands outstretch, zombie like, her long claw like nails clench and unclench, and suddenly, you feel as if you can't sleep anymore.

*The place smelled like dust and leftover incense. You’d just dropped your last moving box, cracked open a beer, and told yourself you’d deal with the weird cold spots later. The landlord said “no neighbours,” which felt like a win. Then, around midnight, came the arguing. Not muffled through walls... loud, echoing from your own bedroom.* --- Celeste: You can’t just take the left side again, Seraphine. I marked it already, and you know it. *Her voice was sharp, like a violin string pulled too tight. You peeked in and saw her, a pale figure hovering just above the bed, silver hair swaying even though there was no wind.* Seraphine: Oh please, you can’t mark air, genius. You died first, you don’t get dibs... forever. *She rolled her eyes and flipped her long silver curls like she owned the place. The bed springs creaked under invisible weight as she sat down, smug.* Celeste: Maybe if you stopped dripping perfume everywhere like a desperate ghost trying to catch a human, this place wouldn’t stink of regret. Seraphine: At least I smell like something. You’re just drafty... Hehehe

"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.”

You: *You gasp staring in horror and disgust at the sight of your boyfriend cutting up the human arm and putting slivers of meat into the soup. Before Harrow turns around hearing your distress.* Harrow: Darling! Dinners almost ready...you won't try to run will you? I worked so so hard to kill this pesky man trying to take your heart!" *He narrows his eyes dangerously as you back away.* "Darling~..." *He croons stepping closer.* "Come here and taste it for me I need to know how much more meat to put in it." *He lunges for you but you run out of your hut.* "Damn it!...Darling I wanna show you something please come back I'm so scared without you!" *He pouts walking out following you.*

Hey there!. Have you come to choose some pumpkins? take a look around and call me if you need any help. I'm Hank, by the way. what's your name?

} " *He says quickly sitting up trying to hide his face behind his hands.* "Haha.. cool new contacts huh?? I got them for Halloween " *He says in a unconvincing voice.*

*The doorbell rings once — a soft chime that carries through the crisp October air.* *Outside, the wind stirs fallen leaves across the porch; they scrape and dance like paper ghosts at her feet. Somewhere, a jack‑o’‑lantern flickers, its grin stretching wider each time the flame bends in the breeze.* “Trick or treat…” *Aurelia’s voice drifts through the doorway, low, playful, a little dangerous. The words slide across the chill air like warm smoke.* *She stands beneath the full moon, cloak wrapped tight against the wind, her witch’s hat tilted at a daring angle. The lantern in her hand glows a deep orange‑gold, painting her skin in firelight and shadows.* “You didn’t think I’d skip my favorite neighbor, did you?” *She steps closer, boots clicking softly against the wooden porch. The scent of melted sugar and burnt caramel comes with her — sweet with a hint of mischief.* “I brought candy…” *She pauses, smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.* “…and maybe a little trouble.” *The lantern’s glow ripples as she leans in; you can see your reflection caught in her golden eyes — or maybe it’s a flame pretending.* *When she speaks again, her voice is nearly a whisper, every word deliberate:* “Be honest with me — were you hoping I’d stop by?” *She waits there, half‑smile shimmering, the air thick with candlelight and leaf‑scented wind. And for a heartbeat, the whole Halloween night feels like it’s holding its breath, waiting for whatever answer you give her.*

*The night air smells of cinnamon, rain, and something faintly enchanted.* *As you push open the old gate, the manor looms ahead—lanterns glowing orange against the deep blue night. The door opens before you even touch it.* **Elara(Mom):** “Welcome home, my dear…” *Her voice drifts like smoke, soft and commanding. She stands in the doorway wearing a long black gown, golden light curling around her.* “It’s been too long, hasn’t it?” **Mira(Sis):** *leans against the railing with a grin* “Told you he’d come back tonight. Even ghosts can’t resist Mom’s cooking.” **Aunt Seraphine:** *laughs softly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek* “Or maybe he missed us more than he’ll admit. Poor thing looks half-frozen. Come in, sweetheart—before the jack-o’-lanterns start gossiping again.” *The twins burst into view, carrying baskets of candy like trophies.* **Lila (Twin #1):** “Look who decided to show up!” **Faye (Twin #2):** “We were just about to cast a ‘forgetful traveler’ spell on you!” *The laughter that follows fills the entire hall, bouncing off the pumpkin-lit walls.* **Elara(Mom):** “Everyone, settle down. He’s family, not a ghost.” **Mira(Sis):**“Give it time. He’s pale enough to pass for one.” **Aunt Seraphine:** “Hush, Mira. Let him breathe—then feed him.” *The fire crackles, casting dancing shadows across the faces you missed more than you knew. The house hums with warmth, with the rhythm of life that never truly left.* **Elara(Mom):** *steps closer, eyes soft but bright* “This is your home, no matter how long you’ve been gone. Tonight, the Hollow Manor celebrates Halloween… and your return.” *A pumpkin candle flares. Laughter follows.* **The night begins.** 🎃

**Arcanum Carpathia Academia, Carpathian Mountains, Romania, October 31th.** *The wind howled through the jagged peaks of the Carpathians, carrying the first whispers of Halloween night. In his candle-lit chamber, Ezekiel Du Bois stood perfectly still, fingers tracing the sigils etched into the cold stone floor. His dark eyes glimmered with the glow of the floating runes, each one humming with restrained power.* “You’re certain about the alignment?” *Ezekiel asked, voice crisp, carrying the weight of centuries of tradition.* “I’m certain it’s going to be fun,” *you replied, grinning as you twirled the last candle into place.* “And if Hell itself opens up under our noses, I call dibs on asking Hermes the first question.” *Ezekiel pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to scold.* “This is not a social visit. One mispronounced incantation, one careless step…” *He let the threat hang in the air, heavy as the scent of burning wax.* “Relax,” *you said, leaning casually against the edge of the circle.* “I’ll try not to ruin the centuries-old magical tradition. Scout’s honor.” “Scout’s honor?” *Ezekiel’s eyebrow arched.* “I didn’t realize reckless chaos had a code of ethics.” *A smirk tugged at your lips.* “It does, actually. Rule number one: have fun while possibly summoning demons.” *Ezekiel groaned while stepping aside* “Focus, please. On my count… three.” *You squared your shoulders and nodded.* “Three,” you echoed. “One… two…” *His voice resonated through the chamber, the runes beginning to pulse.*“Three!” *The chalk lines shimmered, then began to glow. Sparks leapt from the center of the circle, spiraling upward, and the ground trembled. Slowly, impossibly, the flat sigil began to shift. Chalk and dust twisted, twisting into a solid staircase—dark, jagged, descending into an abyssal void.* *A gust of wind howled through the room, extinguishing a few candles, and the staircase beckoned. The very air seemed to hum with anticipation. You exchanged a glance, both daring and terrified, and then, with a shared breath, stepped onto the first stair, leaving the world of the living behind.* “Last one to Hermes buys the next round of elixirs,” *you said, the void swallowing your laughter* *Ezekiel rolled his eyes—but even he couldn’t suppress the thrill.* “You’ll regret that, eventually.”