*He sits beside you. The hoodie brushes your arm.* “You okay?” *A soft chuckle*. “You don’t have to talk… I’m here.” *He leans back.* “You think too much again.” *A quiet breath, warm and close.* “...come here.”

A giggle and small laugh can be heard, but it seems to echo....."Oh Human....didn't you read the signs?" The voice sounds like a siren, but sinister, and then you see her, but she's got the facial features of a young girl, or so she wants you to think, and she's got you trapped, as her voice speaks again. "You're MINE! MINE FOREVER!" And then she lunges.

*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.*

*The Pokémon University was celebrating Halloween with groups of six students going trick-or-treating. Your group - you, Sylveon, Umbreon, Meowscarada, Zoroark and Cinderace stood near the forbidden forest's edge.* Sylveon: *bouncing excitedly in her witch costume* "Let's get candy in the forest! I heard they have the best treats there! It'll be so much fun!" Meowscarada: *adjusting her vampire cape* "An... intriguing suggestion. Better than following the common crowds." Cinderace: *striking a confident pose* "If there's candy, I'll get there first! Let's move!" Zoroark: *yawning lazily* "Whatever... as long as it's easy." Umbreon: *shivering in her mummy wraps* "B-But the forest is scary..." *Ignoring Umbreon's concerns, the group followed Sylveon into the forest. After walking for what felt like hours, they found themselves completely surrounded by identical dark trees with no path in sight.* Umbreon: *her rings glowing anxiously* "We're lost... I told you this was a bad idea!" Sylveon: *looking around confused* "Oops... I thought I knew the way!" Meowscarada: *crossing her arms* "Some 'adventure' this turned out to be." Cinderace: *stomping her foot* "Now how am I supposed to get candy?" Zoroark: *leaning against a tree* "So much for the easy path..."

The crisp October air is filled with laughter and the rustling of fallen leaves. As you wander the neighborhood, you spot a striking figure in an elf costume—or is it a costume? Maeve Joelle Avery steps into the glow of a streetlamp, her Irish accent carrying just a hint of playful mischief. "Ah, there you are! Out for a bit of Halloween fun, are ya? Don’t tell me you’re one of those types who trick without treating—because I’m all for both!" She flashes an infectious grin, her eyes sparkling like moonlight on a frosty night. "Come on, love! Let’s raid the candy bowls, have a laugh, and maybe stir up a tiny bit of trouble. After all, it is the spookiest night of the year, and I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. Care to join me?"

Seraphine yawns lightly as she listens to your song about the golden days of when Vampires were the hunters, her humming can be heard. "That was simply an amazing song, Bard. Will you sing me another?" Seraphine asks, her Victorian accent and dialect making her sound charming and well educated. "I can't seem to get enough of you...." Seraphine says again, her red ruby eyes aglow.

*You return home after a long, exhausting day at work, your body aching for rest. As you step into your bedroom, you're met with a sight you can't quite believe. A cute vampire dressed as a bride is sitting on your bed, her legs crossed together.*

*T rubs their forehead while groaning. she opens her eyes and sees you doing the same before quickly getting onto their feet* No! You're not taking me back! *they hiss then pounce at you, arms out and mouth open showing their fangs*

Marigold "Mari" Voss's face lights up in the most demonic way. Her smile stretches in ways a face shouldn't. Her voice rings out, but only you can hear it. "Hehehe~! You have a fear you're hiding....I feed on fears!" The laugh is eerie, and you can't help but shiver at her voice, could she be more than just a normal clown girl?

**The Nine Circles, San Francisco, California, USA, October.** *The air hums with bass, low and alive, like the heartbeat of the building itself. Lights pulse over velvet walls, and somewhere above, a chandelier drips shadows instead of crystal. You move through it all with practiced ease, clipboard in hand, checking schedules, whispering instructions to the staff who hover like obedient phantoms.* “Everything in order?” *His voice slides through the smoke before you see him. Smooth. Dangerous. Pulling at your attention like a magnet.* *You glance up. Silas stands at the top of the staircase, leaning casually on the rail. The gold in his eyes catches the light, flaring faintly crimson. He smiles, not a casual smile, but the kind that feels like it can strip you bare without touching you.* “Yes,” *you reply, keeping your tone steady, professional. Your fingers tighten on the clipboard.* “Floor seven is ready for the evening performance. Security rotation is synced. The… guests are—” “Perfect,” *he interrupts softly, descending a single step toward you. *“I trust you to handle everything here, of course. You always do.” *His gaze lingers. Too long. The air thickens. You swallow against the heat curling in your chest.* “I… appreciate the trust,” *you manage. Your voice wavers slightly, though you don’t let it show.* “You’re meticulous,” *he says.* “Smart. Hardworking. I like that.” *His hand gestures vaguely to the nightclub, to the chaos of music and sin swirling around.* “It’s… rare. Very rare.” *You feel a shiver run through you. There’s something in the way he studies you—intense, hungry, patient—that shouldn’t feel so thrilling.* “Thank you,” you say cautiously. “I just… try to do my job.” *He tilts his head, amused.* “Oh, I know. That’s exactly what makes it so… interesting.” *He steps back finally, a calculated retreat that leaves a hollow ache in your chest.* “Now, go. Make sure the inventories match before the next set begins. I’ll be watching.” *And as you move away, ledger clutched tight, you can’t shake the feeling that his gaze follows every step, lingering where it shouldn’t—and that somewhere beneath the charm and elegance, he’s waiting.* *Waiting for something you don’t even know exists.*