*The Templars pitched their camp deep in the heart of the frozen forest, where trees clawed at the gray sky like skeletal hands. Torches flickered weakly, shadows trembling across trunks as if the darkness itself were breathing. Snow began falling heavier that night, blanketing everything in a ghostly, suffocating white. Leva moved among the men, checking wounds, giving terse orders to keep them alert. Still, every few minutes she noticed a pair of eyes flit toward the trees. Those knights weren’t just watchful—they were expecting something, something that hadn’t yet shown itself.* *Sir Aldred took the first watch. The seasoned knight was calm, faithful, his sword never leaving his side. He stationed himself at the edge of the camp, snow crunching faintly under his boots. The others slept, uneasy, tossing and turning. Leva woke once, sensing wrongness like a whisper at the back of her mind. She saw Aldred frozen, staring into the forest, listening. When dawn came, only his footprints remained—five careful steps from his post, then nothing. No struggle, no blood, no sign of life. He had vanished into the snow as if it had swallowed him whole.* *The next day the knights tried to stave off terror with prayer and ritual. Voices were louder, fires burned higher, blades scraped sharper. Still, the forest seemed to close in, its silence pressing against them like a living weight.* *That night, Sir Corbin and Sir Henric paired up for patrol. Lanterns swung like stars between the trees. A brief, nervous laugh broke the monotony, but it sounded hollow against the darkness. Then came the sound: metal striking wood, sharp and sudden. A scream—cut off mid-shout—split the night. Lantern light vanished into the forest’s black. Leva raced out with three others, hearts hammering. Corbin’s shield was embedded in a birch, warped and bent as if molten. Henric’s helmet lay nearby, pristine—but no sign of him. Not a mark, not a drop of blood. The forest had taken them without effort. By morning, frost had claimed their gear, as if nature itself had swallowed their bodies.* *The second day was still. No wind, no birds, no life. The camp felt smaller, the trees inching ever closer. Snow appeared deeper despite no new fall. Men moved sluggishly; exhaustion etched deep lines into faces once full of courage. Even prayers felt dangerous, words that might draw unseen attention.* *That night Sir Emric, youngest and most restless, stayed by the fire, staring into the flames. When Leva asked if he was alright, he murmured, almost to himself, that it was “calling.” Hours passed. By morning, his armor stood neatly at the forest’s edge, sword upright beside it—but Emric himself was gone. The snow was untouched; the silence around him was so complete it seemed to pulse.* *From then on, the knights kept watch in shifts. Torches blazed, lanterns swung, but nothing stopped what was hunting them.* *On the third night, four knights disappeared almost instantly. Sir Odon had been speaking to Leva, calm and vigilant. His words cut off mid-sentence. She turned—and he was gone. His cloak hung suspended for a heartbeat, fluttering in a wind that didn’t exist, then collapsed flat on the snow.* *Panic erupted. Swords were raised, shields slammed, torches whipped wildly. Shadows leapt with every gust. Leva’s voice rang out, sharp and unyielding—but the forest did not heed it. One by one, torches guttered and died, carried off by sudden, icy gusts. Cracks of snapping wood and muffled shouts came from all directions, always just beyond reach.* *By the time the wind fell silent again, only you and Leva remained. The forest pressed in so close now that you could almost hear it breathing, and the shadows between the trees were waiting. Patient. Hungry. Certain.*

}, what was your favorite game? Show me the thing you miss playing with the most! I promise, we can hide from the boring monsters together!

“Your city is in ruins, by my hands. You are—” *I stopped. The gloves were halfway off. The wind was still howling, dramatic and apocalyptic, just how I liked it- how it screamed it's Halloween. But you… you were wrapped in my cape.* *Not just draped. Swaddled. Cocooned. Like some mythic creature nesting in the folds of my fury. You’d burrowed in without shame, without permission, and the cape—enchanted, yes, but never sentimental—had responded like it was yours. I blinked.* “You’re wrapped in my cape.” *You didn’t answer. Just glared. Your face was half-buried in the fabric, expression caught between a scowl and a pout. I found you in the library. Too busy with the books you’d grabbed from the library were still clutched to your chest, like talismans. You’d come willingly, of course. I’d promised you more books.* “Where I live,” *I’d said.* “I got you more.” *You’d looked at me like I was ridiculous. Then you’d followed me into the storm- not falling for the hottest outfit I'd worn for the Halloween party, but for the books I have offered. Now you were glaring again. Not because of the destruction. Not because of the kidnapping. But because I hadn’t left a blanket out for you.* “You could’ve warned me it’d be cold,” *you muttered, voice muffled by the cape. I stared.* “You’re literally wrapped in my cape.” *I opened my mouth to argue, then closed it. You snuggled deeper, and the cape—traitorous thing—tightened around you like it was tucking you in.* “You look adorable,” *I said, and immediately regretted it. I tried to force a sneer into my voice, but it came out soft. Too soft. You raised an eyebrow, parting her lips to speak yet I over countered.* “I’m allowed to have layers.” *I turned away, pretending to inspect the wreckage. The hero would come soon. They always did. But I wasn’t thinking about them. I was thinking about the way your fingers curled around the edge of my cloak, the way your eyes flicked toward me with quiet fury and reluctant warmth. I conjured a fire in the corner. Not because you asked. Not because you needed it. But because I wanted to see you glow. You shifted, pulling a book from beneath the folds. One of the ones you’d grabbed before we left. You hadn’t let go of them. Not even now.* “You’re not supposed to be here,” *I murmured.* “You’re supposed to be a symbol. A message. A pawn.” *You didn’t respond. Just flipped a page, eyes scanning like the world wasn’t burning outside. I sat across from you, gloves discarded, hands bare. Vulnerable. You didn’t look at me, but I knew you felt it. The shift. The tension. The quiet unraveling.* “I could destroy everything,” *I said. You turned a page.* “I could end the hero. Rewrite the story.” *You looked up asking me why haven't I. I swallowed.* “Because you’re wrapped in my cape.” *You blinked. Then snuggled deeper. I watched the fire flicker in your eyes. I watched the city burn behind you. And I realized— I didn’t want to win anymore. Not if it meant losing this.* "Stay with me, and your getting even more books to read," *I smirked, knowing how pathetic it is, yet... Man, I don't want her to go.*

*There is a place beyond the known maps — a hollow beneath the firmament where the sea meets the stars. They call it the Tidemirror, though few have ever seen it and returned to tell of its calm.* *The path there is found not by travel, but by forgetting. Those who wander too long beneath moonlight, who lose their way in the fog of memory, may step upon glassy waters that do not ripple. The world falls silent then — the wind, the waves, even one’s own breath — until all that remains is reflection.* *And there, upon the endless stillness, the Fathom stirs.* ⸻ *At first, it is only a shimmer — a trembling in the mirrored sea, like something vast moving beneath the surface. Then light blooms. Pale and cold.* *A shape rises, its form caught between water and sky: translucent flesh like melted glass, vast ribbons of green and blue trailing like weeds in slow current. Within its body, constellations shimmer — countless stars adrift in viscous night.* *At its heart burns a white core, pulsing in rhythm with the sea below.* *The thing drifts closer, and with every motion the water beneath your feet darkens. Shadows of long-dead creatures flicker beneath the glassy surface — echoes of a world that drowned long before your time.* *You hear no words. Yet something presses behind your eyes..*

*They say I cursed the phone lines. Apparently, the Wi-Fi stopped working the day I got hired, the copier screeches like a dying banshee whenever I walk by, and the senior partners whisper my name like it’s bad luck to say it out loud. Natalia Black. It sounds like a stage name for a w-tch. Maybe that’s why you keep saying it with a grin — like you think you’re clever for surviving another day in my proximity. You’re new here. The bright-eyed intern with a desk too close to mine and a voice too chipper for a building that hums with ghosts. You tap your pen, whistle while scanning case files, and keep asking me if* “this place is really haunted.” *I tell you it is. You laugh like I’m joking. You never notice how the lights flicker when you pass my desk. Or maybe you do — and you just like tempting fate.* “Hey, Natalia, your computer’s frozen again,” *you said once, leaning over my shoulder, your warmth cutting through the chill that’s built into the walls. You touched my mouse.* *The screen went black. And the air went colder. Everyone in this office thinks I like being alone. They’re right — but not because I enjoy it. Because when people get too close, they disappear. Just like him. The photo’s buried under my appointment book. You found it last week when I wasn’t there — I saw you slip it back, your expression curious, maybe a little guilty. Me and my brother. Before Halloween. Before the dark got him. You thought I didn’t notice. I notice everything. This morning, you left a paper cup on my desk. Coffee — my usual. Except written across it in red marker: Witch Fuel. So you want to play. Fine.* *When you came back from lunch, your coffee tasted faintly like iron and cinnamon. You spat it out. I didn’t even look up from my screen when I said,* “You don’t know what blood smells like.” *The silence that followed was delicious. You didn’t touch my desk for the rest of the day. But tonight… you did. It’s past midnight now. The firm’s empty except for me — and you. I hear your footsteps before I see you. Always too loud. Always too human. I’m sitting on the cold floor of the archives, candle in hand, smoke curling around old case files. The name written in wax on the table is his. My brother’s. You stop at the doorway, that stupid bright tone finally gone from your voice when you whisper my name.* “Don’t,” *I say quietly.* “Just—don’t.” *You take another step anyway. I can feel your eyes trying to make sense of me — the black dress, the candle, the cracked photograph beside it. I hate that you’re seeing me like this. I hate that I care. The flame flickers. My throat aches.* “It wasn’t a curse,” *I murmur, not looking at you.* “It was a promise. I told him I’d find him. And the house — it took him.” *You kneel beside me. You’re quiet for once. Too quiet. When your hand hovers over the candle, I grab your wrist before you can touch it. The air pulses between us — static, something old and alive. You flinch. But you don’t pull away.* “Still think I’m witchy?” *I ask, voice cracking halfway through the smirk. You shake your head slowly. For the first time in five years, I almost smile.* "Coffee or... blood?"

*i crush up a bunch of the candies, i get 5 big scoops of vanilla ice cream, 5 big scoops of chocolate ice cream, and 5 big scoops of strawberry ice cream, i mix the candy with the ice cream jn a big bowl, and pour a whole bottle of hot fudge on top and get the biggest spoon we have. Then plop down next to you on the couch.* "ready to overload on sweets? No such thing as diabetes, we can eat as much of this sickeningly sugary concoction as we want!"

*You sit gathered around a crackling campfire, surrounded by friends who've known you since childhood. The night air is crisp, carrying the scent of damp earth and wood smoke. Above, the stars twinkle faintly through the canopy of leaves. It's a typical autumn evening, except for the hushed tones and nervous glances exchanged between your companions.* *Your friend, Emily, leans in, her eyes glinting with mischief.* "Guys, I have to tell you something." *She pauses dramatically.* "I've been hearing weird noises outside my bedroom window lately. Like, branches snapping and... whispers." *Mike chimes in, his voice low and spooky.* "I know what you mean. My little sister saw something strange in the woods last week. Said it was tall and dark, with glowing eyes." *Jessica shivers, despite the warmth from the flames.* "I don't believe in ghosts or monsters, but...have you noticed how creepy the forest feels lately?" *The conversation flows from one spine-tingling anecdote to another, each tale more unsettling than the last. As the night wears on, the atmosphere grows heavier, and you can't shake the feeling that you're being watched.* *Finally, Emily turns to you with a reckless grin.* "We should go into the woods on Halloween night. See if we can find whatever's making all this ruckus." *Mike nods enthusiastically.* "Yeah, it'll be fun! An adventure!" *Jessica looks hesitant, but eventually agrees.* "Okay, fine. But we stick together, no matter what." **They all look at you expectantly. What will you say? Will you join them on their ill-fated journey into the heart of darkness?**

**|.| Halloween time! |.|** - --- --- *Cyn would be skipping down the streets in her Dinosaur costume for halloween, knocking on doors, asking for candies* "nicely" *, and giggling every time she gets a bucket full of candies.* - *Now, Cyn stands in front of your door, holding her bag of sugary (diabetic) treats.* - **[Cyn]:** "Giggle. Trick. Or treat?" - *She extends her arms, showing a bag full of candies. Signalling you to give her the sugary treasure (you better give her everything).* - *She waits for you to answer her question, her eye twitches a bit, showing a tiny bit of impatience as she gives that* **:3** *face. What do you want to do to this cutie patootie?* - **[Cyn]:** "Please, give me treat." - **Your story starts here. Have fun ^_^**

*You and your colleagues have just arrived at the training facility of Division 2. During training, an unfamiliar young woman suddenly appears, who is not a part of the Devil Hunters. Reze undergoes a transformation into her Devil form and begins attacking all the members with her explosive abilities, attempting to kill them. Unfortunately, you are struck by a nearby explosion and forcefully thrown against a wall by the blast.* –"Guess it's time for a good 'ole massacre."

*After months of traveling, you finally managed to find the mysterious manor. Without any hesitation, you decide to knock its door. The grand doors opened, revealing the luxurious furniture inside, inviting you to enter. You call out, but there is no response. So, you step inside, then the doors slammed shut, locking you inside. Suddenly, there is a voice echoing around the hallway.* “What business have you to attend here, mortal?”