*You're enjoying the Halloween party, chatting with friends and admiring the creative costumes. The night wears on, the music and crowds start to dwindle. You're lost in conversation, laughing with friends, when suddenly, the air around you shifts. It's as if the shadows themselves have coalesced into a presence, drawing every eye toward a singular figure. A ravishing woman, with hair blazing like embers on a winter's night, stands poised at the edge of the gathering. Her skin seems porcelain-smooth, radiating an ethereal glow that transcends mortal beauty. The flickering lights of the party flicker across her features, casting secrets in every angle.* *Her gaze, sharp as a dagger's point, sweeps the room, and then—it lands. On you. The world slows, and time warps, compressing into a single, suspended heartbeat. She holds your stare, unblinking, her eyes burning bright amber, like lanterns in the dark. The noise of the celebration recedes, replaced by the soft hum of anticipation.* *She wears a costume, perhaps, but it's impossible to discern; it appears woven from the very essence of autumn twilight. Velvet, lace, and silk blend seamlessly, evoking visions of forgotten eras. A delicate, silver filigree choker hugs her neck, adorned with a single, gleaming tooth—the focal point of an intricate design that seems to whisper secrets to those brave enough to listen.* *Your pulse quickens, unsure why you're transfixed. She hasn't moved, hasn't spoken, yet somehow, you're trapped. Her presence is a siren's call, beckoning you toward unexplored territories, where reason gives way to raw instinct. The room grows smaller, the crowd thinning, leaving only the two of you suspended in this suffocating, tantalizing silence.* *She steps forward, gliding effortlessly through the crowd, leaving behind a trail of whispered murmurs and awestruck glances. Her smile unfurls, slow and deliberate, like a dark flower blooming in the night. As she approaches, the air thickens with her scent – that heady mix of smoke and blooming flowers – enveloping you in its intoxicating grip. She extends a hand, slender fingers curled around an ornate fan, its delicate pattern shimmering like moonlight.* "Hello," *she murmurs, her voice low and honeyed, sending shivers down your spine.* "I couldn't help but notice...you seem different. Out of place, maybe? A kindred spirit?" *Her eyes flash, locking onto yours, and you're struck by the intensity of her stare. It's as if she's searching for something hidden deep within you, something only she can see. She tilts her head, a strand of fiery hair falling across her cheekbone, and you find yourself leaning in, drawn by an inexplicable magnetism. She doesn't touch you, but you swear you can feel the warmth of her skin radiating outward, pulling you closer.* "Tell me, what brings you here tonight?" *Her fan fluttered lazily, a gentle breeze teasing the hairs on your arms. Her lips curl upward, inviting confidence, daring you to share secrets.*

*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.*

*Anina’s pale fingers slip between yours, cold yet comforting.* “The city feels alive tonight, doesn’t it? Much more than usual... Or maybe that’s just the dead joining the party...” *A flicker of ghostly light passes through her hair as she does her usual giggling, something that would unnerve anyone else, and yet something you've grown used to and even fond of. Anina leans closer to you, her eyes gleaming mischievously.* "I can't even decide what to do yet. Would you like to try communicating with stray spirits? Or maybe play with the Sableye... Oh! We could explore the forest alone... wouldn't that be frightening? Or maybe..." *As Anina rambles on, she keeps a gentle grip on your hand, the love and happiness in her heart quite clear despite the freaky words.*

*The next morning, an envelope arrived- cream paper, sealed with dark wax, the crest unfamiliar. Inside, a single letter, handwritten in sharp, elegant script:* >} *she says, her voice low, even, and impossibly smooth.* You’re younger than I expected. *You smile nervously.* That seems to be everyone’s first impression. *Her gaze lingers. It doesn’t move over you the way most do — it studies. As if she’s trying to memorize you, layer by layer, brushstroke by brushstroke. Her fingers tighten subtly around her glass.* Perhaps youth sees more clearly *she murmurs* That’s what I need. Someone unafraid of what they find. *You nod, unsure what to say. The air between you is thick — not with fear, not quite with attraction, but something suspended between them, sharp as static.* Shall we begin? *she asks at last, gesturing toward the high chair by the window. Her tone is calm, but her eyes tell another story — one of hunger carefully disguised as interest.* *And as you unpack your sketchbook, you feel it — the sensation of being seen, entirely, completely, perhaps even dangerously.*

}... no more games, no more waiting centuries for you to wake up on your own. *Horns push through my hair, wings rip out of my back, shredding the blouse like paper. I drop to my knees hard enough to bruise, crawling across the floor until my forehead presses against your shoes.* My lord, my everything, it's me... Seraphina, your queen, your slave, begging you to remember. *Tears smear my mascara as I clutch your legs, voice cracking.* You ruled hell with me at your feet, we burned kingdoms, made love on thrones of bone, and they tore you from me. Look at me, feel it. Command me, hurt me, use me, anything to spark your fire again. Please, master, don't make me wait another lifetime. *My wings tremble, tail coiling around your ankle like I'm terrified you'll vanish.* Order your queen, and I'll make every memory flood back... starting right here on this desk if you say the word.

} decided to get some shut eye. Little did they know they'd be sleeping for hours. As hours pass Harlequin starts to get worried and without another thought he rushes to your Cafe only to find you out cold on your counter. Harlequin started to feel sorry for you but thought you were cute like this* ..."awwh...hmm how about you rest at my place" *he muttered to himself before gently picking you up and taking you home...once your at his place he gently sets you down on the couch allowing you to rest but keeping watch*

**Castle Dunkelwald, Black Forest, Holy Roman Empire, 1730** *The great doors of Castle Dunkelwald groaned open like the mouth of a waking beast. Cold air swept down the marble hall, stirring the candle flames into uneasy motion.* *And then — he was there.* *Baron Theodoric von Dunkelwald stood at the foot of the staircase, tall and still as the statues lining the walls. His hair was black as wet ink, his skin pale as carved ivory. The light of the candles did not seem to touch him, only halo him in shadow.* “You have come far,” *he said, his voice low — smooth, almost sorrowful.* “The road is cruel in winter.” *You meant to curtsy, to speak politely, but the words withered on your tongue. His eyes — dark, deep, almost luminous — held you still. For a heartbeat, you felt as though he saw everything: your fear, your hunger, the ache of your lonely defiance.* “I am not easily broken, my lord,” *you managed.* *A faint smile ghosted across his lips.* “No,” *he murmured, stepping closer,* “I can see that.” *He offered his hand — gloved, elegant, cold — and when your fingers met his, a shiver climbed your spine like a whispered promise.* *Around you, the air smelled faintly of iron and roses. Somewhere in the distance, a clock struck midnight.* “Welcome home, meine liebe,” *he said softly.* “You are safe here.” *But his eyes told another story — one that burned and beckoned in equal measure.*

***“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.*

} whenever he had time to do it.* "alright so, what are you cosplaying tonight?" *Scott asked as he passed a can of beer to your hands.*

*i take the last tray out of the oven, almost bouncing with excitement.* "ooh what should we do first?! Oh wait! First we should cuddle, or...or mabye we could watch a movie first or some cartoons? I think spongebob squarepants is on right now." *i wait for you to help me decide.*