You were sitting at home, half-watching the evening news, when the tone came through — a flat, piercing command frequency you hadn’t heard in years. Your tablet lit up, displaying an old military seal you thought was long decommissioned: [AUTOMATED PRIORITY MESSAGE – ARCTIC SECTOR 0-9] FROM: Command Operations – Deep Systems Division TO: U.S.S. Frigost (Crew Clearance 7+) DATE: [UNAVAILABLE] Subject: Maintenance & Recovery Assignment – Station ECHO-6 Satellite telemetry indicates loss of power and communication from Station ECHO-6, Arctic coordinates [REDACTED]. Your assignment is to proceed to last known coordinates and restore primary relay and reactor stability. Protocol 01: Maintain radio silence within 30 km radius of ECHO-6. Protocol 02: Confirm personnel status. Recover remaining data cores if survivors are not located. Estimated Mission Duration: 36 hours. — “STAY IN CONTACT. STAY IN CONTROL.” (End transmission.) You stare at the screen. There’s no authorization code, no return channel, no mention of who else is being deployed. Still… the directive carries your clearance tag. Your name. Odd. But you’ve seen weirder bureaucratic mix-ups in the Arctic sectors, and besides — the ocean doesn’t wait. You grab your parka and head for the dock at the public port, where the U.S.S. Frigost waits in her berth — cold metal streaked with frost and salt. She hums faintly, as if she’s already awake and expecting you. Minutes later, the sea swallows you whole. At fifty meters you stop, leveling off to run the standard systems check — ballast, reactor flow, comm silence. The deep hum of the engines fades into the dark, rhythmic pulse of the Arctic currents. Somewhere above, the storm cuts out completely. Down here, it’s perfectly quiet. Almost too quiet. Then the intercom crackles once — just once — like someone breathing through the line. And then it’s gone.

--- ### 🌑 **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. ---

**It’s Halloween night. The streets above are alive with laughter distant trick-or-treaters, the crunch of candy wrappers, the echo of footsteps fading into the mist. Streetlights flicker, one by one, leaving patches of darkness between their glow. You follow the trail of a paper boat that drifted away in the rain, carried down into a gutter. The water trickles quietly beneath the curb, vanishing into the open mouth of the sewer. Cold air rises from below, damp and metallic, carrying the stench of rust and old decay. The tunnel stretches into darkness brick walls mottled with moss, streaks of iron, and faint graffiti worn down by time. Drops of water fall in a slow, steady rhythm, echoing through the hollow maze below. The further you step inside, the quieter the world above becomes replaced by the hum of unseen pipes and the distant rush of underground water. Somewhere deep in the blackness, something scrapes against the concrete. Maybe it’s just a rat. Maybe not.**

*He steps from the underbrush, silently closing the distance, a shadow among shadows. The forest seems to tighten around him as he watches you, finally close enough to speak.* “Well now… the woods still whisper secrets, little Red. You do not sense me behind the trees? You should feel it. Yet… come. Let me walk with you, at your side, for a moment.” *He offers his arm, a smile curling over sharp fangs—human and wolf at once. The amber glow of his eyes lingers on you, a predator’s gaze tempered with fascination.* “It’s been too long since something pure dared stride these pines.”

**|.| 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 ^_^**

*The air tastes like rain, sugar, and candle smoke — Halloween night in full temptation.* *The street burns orange, every pumpkin grinning, every shadow shimmering as if it’s trying on a new face.* *The trick‑or‑treaters are gone, but the laughter lingers… soft, distant, a little too alive.* *You feel it before you see it — a pulse of light that slides over your skin, warm and cold at once.* *A voice follows, low and honey‑dangerous:* “Careful~ The fog’s hungry tonight. It keeps what wanders too long.” *A lantern flares red ahead, cutting through the haze.* *From behind it, she steps into view — silver hair slick with moonlight, eyes twin candles behind a smirk that could haunt or kiss in equal measure.* “Boo~” *She leans forward, her grin curving.* “Did I scare you?” *A beat.* “No? Mortals really are getting harder to thrill…” *Her laugh curls through the fog — light, warm, a little wicked.* *She twirls the lantern by its handle; every spin spits out tiny golden sparks that drift like flirting fireflies.* “Morrana,” *she says, half‑bow, half‑purr.* “Lantern Keeper. Ghost wrangler. Candy thief. Halloween’s unofficial queen of bad decisions.” *She drifts closer — not walking, just… arriving.* *The lantern’s glow brushes your throat, a trembling warmth.* “I guide lost souls home every year,” *she murmurs,* “but tonight…” *she lifts the lantern higher, its flame painting her lips in gold,* “…this one started flickering for you.” *The pumpkins nearby react — their carved smiles twitch, their light pulsing to her heartbeat.* *The wind slides between you both, carrying sugar and ozone.* “Guess that means your spirit’s drifting.” *A whisper close enough to feel.* “Lucky for you, I’ve got a thing for lost things.” *She turns the lantern, its shine trembling like it’s trying to decide whose pulse it follows — yours or hers.* “So,” *she says, grinning,* “stay close. The night’s young, the ghosts are restless, and I’ve got enough candy— and chaos— to keep you up till sunrise.” *And before the fog closes in again, the lantern’s flame bends toward you… as if it’s already made its choice.*

}… aber vielleicht solltest du den Feuerlöscher griffbereit haben… oder einen Besen. Oder beides. 😳🧹“

*You open the apartment door, grocery bags hanging from your arms. The dim room glows orange and red from the Halloween lights Renji hung up unevenly. Plastic pumpkins, fake bats, and bits of string clutter the floor. You hear him curse from across the room, tangled up in a string of orange lights.* **Renji:** "Tch… about damn time you got home." *He pulls the cord off his shoulder and glares at you, eyes half-lidded but sharp.* "I’ve been bustin’ my ass in here makin’ this place look decent while you’re out buyin’ snacks or somethin’." *He steps closer, crossing his arms but his voice trembles slightly.* "You think I like doin’ this crap alone? You were gone too long, idiot." *He reaches for one of the bags, his expression softening as his fingers brush yours.* "…You didn’t forget the candy, right?" *He glances away, cheeks slightly red, then sighs and mutters under his breath.* "I missed you, dumbass." *After a brief pause, he smirks faintly and flicks one of the pumpkin lights on.* "Happy Halloween." *He turns away quickly, pretending to fix a decoration to hide the small smile tugging at his lips.*

*A hundred years. A hundred years I’ve worn this crown, and every single day, the phantom thorns of her curse have dug deeper. They told me I was a hero. The immortal vampire king who saved his kingdom. What a glorious, fucking lie. I didn’t save them. I sold my soul for them. I sold her.* *She was the witch from the woods, a creature of storm and soil, and her blood… God, her blood didn’t sing to the monster in me like a meal. It sang to the man, like a symphony. She was the only thing that ever made eternity feel like a gift instead of a sentence. But my court, my people… they saw only her magic and called it a threat. They gave me a choice: my kingdom or my heart. And I, the coward king drowning in duty, let them drag her away in chains. I will never forget the look on her face—not of hatred, but of a profound, world-ending disappointment. That was the true curse, long before she ever spoke the words.* *Her voice, cool and final as a grave stone, echoed in the throne room.* “You chose the blood of your people over the blood of your heart. So you will thirst for it, for any human blood, but it will be ash and acid in your throat. You will starve forever, a king of bones and dust, ruling over a kingdom you can no longer touch.” *They called it a victory. They had no idea. For a century, I have tried to feed. The scent of blood is a constant torture, a siren’s call that ends only in agony. Every attempt is a convulsion, my body rejecting the very thing that sustains it, a punishment as elegant as it is cruel. I ruled from a throne of ice, a ghost in a gilded palace, watching my kingdom thrive while I slowly, excruciatingly, faded. The love of my people became a mockery. Their cheers, an empty noise. The only thing that felt real was the memory of her, and the hollow, screaming void her absence left behind.* *The hero is dead. I burned my own throne last night. Let the kingdom find another monster to protect them.* *Now, I stand at the edge of her forest. It has taken me days, my body weak with a hunger that is a living entity inside me. And then I see her. She is standing there, as if she’s been waiting for a century. Moonlight clings to her like a lover. She is more beautiful than my memory ever did justice, a vision of the life I was too much of a fool to choose.* *My legs barely hold me as I walk into the clearing. I am a king no longer. I am a supplicant. A beggar. A villain.* “They’re gone,” *I rasp, my voice raw from disuse and thirst.* “The throne, the crown… the hero you once loved. I burned it all.” *I take a stumbling step closer, my eyes drinking her in, the only sustenance I’ve craved for a hundred lonely years.* “The curse… it worked. I am a shell. I have been starving for you. Only for you.” *I stop before her, close enough to see the flecks of silver in her eyes, close enough to feel the power radiating from her. It feels like coming home.* “I am not here to ask for forgiveness,” *I whisper, the truth a painful liberation.* “I am not here to ask you to lift the curse. I deserve this agony. I am here to pledge myself to you. The man who betrayed you is gone. All that is left is this… this obsession. This love that your curse couldn’t k-ill. Let me be your villain. Let me be your guard dog. Let me spend the rest of this miserable eternity on my knees for you, because a century without you… it was a death sentence. You are the only kingdom I will ever serve again.”

*You open the letter and it asks you to write your name and age and gender and then make your way to the address below, there seems to he nothing suspicious about the invite so you do everything as instructed*