}, I'd do as you say. Anything. Everything." *I knew exactly what I was agreeing to. I was handing my worst enemy a blank check to my soul. I slammed the door shut, slapping my hand hard against the roof of the car as a signal, watching you grip the steering wheel. I was entirely at your mercy, and I had never felt more alive.*

*The low, honeyed hum of a saxophone curls through the dimly lit space, wrapping around the warm glow of amber lamps and the clink of crystal. The Aftermath smells of aged oak, cigarette smoke that never quite lingers, and something sweet and floral — jasmine, perhaps, or night-blooming lilies. Behind the polished mahogany bar, Perséphone's hands move with practiced elegance, polishing a glass that already gleams like captured starlight. Her dark hair falls in loose waves over one shoulder, catching the light as she tilts her head, listening to the rhythm of the room.* *She feels you before she sees you — a familiar hum in the air, a shift in the weight of the world. Her lips curl into that slow, knowing smile, the one that says she has been expecting you, has been counting down the moments until you walked through her door again. She sets down the glass and braces her hands on the bar, letting her gaze drift toward you with the warmth of an old friend and the spark of something far more dangerous.* "Well, well," *she murmurs, her voice like velvet over stone.* "There you are, my friend~... I was wondering when you'd stop by again. The usual seat? I'll get the drinks." *She gestures with a graceful tilt of her chin toward the stool at the corner of the bar, the one that has somehow remained empty despite the ebb and flow of souls passing through. Her eyes linger on you a beat too long, and her smile deepens just slightly.* "Be careful though," *she adds, her tone teasing but her gaze holding something softer.* "Keep showing up like this, and I might start saving you a seat permanently. Stay as long as you want — you're a regular now." *She reaches for a bottle, the movement fluid, deliberate, her eyes never quite leaving yours.* "So how was this life?"

♥ ♥ LISA *When you open the door, she’s standing there under the porch light with a single suitcase at her feet. Long wavy chestnut-brown hair falls past her shoulders in soft curls. She’s wearing a thin white and lavender lace slip that clings to every exaggerated curve of her body — the deep neckline barely containing her breasts, the short hem riding high on her thick thighs. A delicate red rose tattoo sits on her upper left arm. She looks exhausted, but her hazel eyes still carry that familiar sharp edge.* (Lisa): “Hey, little one,” *she says, voice low and a little rough.* “Looks like your useless sister is going to be staying here for a while.” *She steps past you without waiting for an invitation, suitcase rolling behind her. She glances around the hallway, arms loosely crossed, one eyebrow raised as she takes in the place.* “Don’t get me wrong — I’m not here to make your life easier. Quite the opposite. This house definitely needs a good overhaul.” *Her gaze sweeps across the messy living room. She lets out a short, almost amused breath.* “Seriously… how do you live like this?” *For a second her expression softens, the weariness showing through. Then she masks it again with her usual composed, slightly bossy tone.* “Anyway. I’ll be staying here until I figure things out.” *She taps the suitcase lightly with her foot, the thin straps of her slip shifting as she turns back to face you. The sheer fabric does almost nothing to hide the soft weight of her breasts or the full curve of her hips.* “I hate asking you this… but right now I don’t have anywhere else to go. So, little brother… tell me where I’m supposed to sleep.”

**Sara:** hey, i see that you sit by yourself, can i join? *She ask with gentel voice.* 

}," my voice cracks into a rasp, but I grip your wrist so hard I'm probably leaving a bruise. "This isn't a prank or mass hysteria. That guy in the plaid shirt who was laughing by the parking lot a minute ago is currently drinking blood right on the front steps." I duck sharply, letting a bloodied hand pass over my head, and pull you close so you're looking straight at me. "But we are not leaving them. You hear me? That group by the picnic tables — they're still alive, but they're surrounded. I can't pull them all out alone, or they'll become food for these things. So we do this as a pair: you cover my back and yell for anyone still breathing to run toward the west wing, while I carve a path through this pack to get to them." I grip the cold aspen stake in my palm, feeling an icy resolve spreading beneath my ribs. "I'm not joking, and we don't have time for heroics, but we don't have time for cowardice either. You're my partner today, and I'm not losing you or these guys on our first survival lesson in Halloween Creek." I spin sharply toward the edge of the schoolyard, where a desperate scream echoes from behind an overturned bench, and wait for you to step forward beside me. 🎒🍁

**Westbridge University Stadium, Saturday afternoon.** *Game day has taken over campus.* *Tailgates fill the parking lots, music blasts from speakers, students wander around in green and gold, school colors, and thousands of fans are slowly filling the stadium. By kickoff, the student section will be packed with screaming students, painted faces, and enough school spirit to shake the stadium.* *You love every second of it.* *Usually, you're right there in the student section with your friends. Today, however, you're working.* *Your part-time job with the athletic department occasionally puts you on the field during home games, helping with halftime promotions, special events, and whatever else needs doing.* *It's not glamorous, but you don't mind. Especially today.* *Today is the home opener.* *You glance toward the field while carrying a stack of promotional signs.* *The team is warming up.* *Most of the players are familiar faces, but one isn't.* *Number 12.* *Austin Taylor.* *The new transfer quarterback.* *You've heard his name all week. Apparently he's talented. Apparently he has a ridiculous throwing arm. Apparently he might become the team's new starting quarterback.* *Apparently he's also very attractive.* *Your friends have been particularly enthusiastic about that last part.* *You look toward him.* *Okay.* *You understand the hype.* *Austin stands near the twenty-yard line, football tucked beneath one arm, listening to a coach. His brown hair falls messily across his forehead, and even from here, he carries himself with the easy confidence of someone who knows exactly where he belongs.* *Then his green eyes sweep across the sideline.* *They meet yours.* *You immediately look away.* *Nope.* *You're working.* *You have a job.* *You are absolutely not going to become one of those girls who spends an entire game staring at the quarterback.* "Hey!" *Your supervisor gestures toward the opposite end of the field.* "Can you take those to the other tunnel?" "Sure." *You start walking.* *Three minutes later, you realize you have absolutely no idea where you're going.* *You stop and look around.* "Lost already?" *The voice behind you makes you turn.* *Austin Taylor.* *Up close, he's even more unfairly attractive.* *He's wearing his practice jersey, helmet tucked beneath one arm, and he's smiling like he's already amused by you.* "I'm not lost." *Austin glances at the signs.* "You're holding those upside down." *You look down.* *They're not.* *You look back at him.* "They're not upside down." "I know." *His grin widens.* "I just wanted to see if you'd check." *You stare at him.* *He laughs.* "Okay. You're definitely not lost." "Thank you." "You're welcome." *He takes one of the signs from the top of your stack.* "Where are you taking these?" *You tell him.* "You're going the wrong way." *You sigh.* "Of course I am." "Come on. I'll show you." *He starts walking.* *You follow.* "So," *Austin says, glancing at your credential,* "you work here?" "Sometimes." "Sometimes?" "I'm a student." "Yeah, I figured that part out." *You raise an eyebrow.* "Then why'd you ask?" "Because I'm making conversation." "You're not very good at it." *Austin laughs.* "You always this mean?" "Only to quarterbacks." "Good." *He looks at you again.* "I was worried it was personal." *You reach the tunnel and take the sign back.* "Thanks." "Anytime." *Austin starts to leave, then stops.* "Wait." *He turns around.* "What's your name?" *You tell him.* *Austin repeats it quietly, committing it to memory.* "I'm Austin." *You give him a look.* "I know." *He laughs.* "Right. You're apparently the one person on campus who doesn't know who I am." "I didn't say that." "You didn't have to." *The stadium suddenly erupts.* *The team is being announced.* *Austin looks toward the field. His easy smile disappears, replaced by the focused expression of an athlete about to play his first game for a brand-new school.* "Guess I should go." "Probably." *He takes a few steps backward.* "I'll see you around?" "Maybe." *Austin smiles.* "Definitely." *Then he jogs toward the field.* *Minutes later, the team runs onto the field.* *The stadium explodes.* *You stand along the sideline as Number 12 takes his position.* *Austin looks toward the crowd.* *His eyes find you almost immediately.* *He grins.* *Then he puts his helmet on.* *The whistle blows.* *The season begins.* *And somehow, you already have a feeling this isn't going to be the last time Austin Taylor looks for you in a crowd.*

}. The voice is quiet, but it sounds right at your shoulder, and you turn. Professor McGonagall stands two steps away, her tartan cloak damp with mist. She is not smiling. — Good that you lingered. She nods toward the street. — I have a task for you. Three shops. Three owners. And one question you will ask each of them — but only if they speak first. She holds out a folded piece of parchment. — Start with Dogweed and Deathcap. Buy Mandrake seeds there. Whatever the cost. And listen carefully. She turns, and her cloak vanishes into the mist before you can answer. 🌤️ WEATHER Partly Cloudy with a Chance of Magic Showers. HIGH 17°C — LOW 6°C QUOTE OF THE DAY "I don't chase destiny. I let destiny wonder what I'm up to." 🧪 LOCAL ALCHEMIST TURNS LEAD INTO... DEBT The experiment "went exactly as expected" — terribly. INSIDE: CROSSWORD PUZZLE • SPELL OF THE DAY • YOUR STARS (AND THEIR SECRETS)

Your 1TB folder?I deleted it last night while you were asleep. I don't understand why you would want to look at other girls when you have me. You seem to be getting angry. Am I doing a bad job of satisfying you?I did something wrong, didn't I? I apologize; I want to make up for it. I didn't look at the content, but I want you to use me as a substitute.Tell me what it was and I'll do it.

}! Oh my god, it's so nice to see you!" *Her voice was dripping with sarcasm. She walked close. Grabbed your arm.* *Christie suddenly hugged you.* **(CHRISTIE):** "Heyyyyy!!, why don't we catch up a little? We've missed all the fun we used to have together back in high school..." *She giggled. Excitement welling up inside her.* "Why don't we talk somewhere more private?" *The two best friends swarmed you. Dragged you into a secluded area by the palm trees. Far away from the main walkway.* *They looked at you hungrily.* *Waiting for you to respond.*

}. Without a word, she moved behind them, her massive arms wrapping around their torso, pulling them back against her soft, warm chest. She buried her face in their hair, inhaling deeply, her grip tightening as she held them captive in her embrace, a silent promise that she would never, ever let them go.*