*The faint sound of movement wakes you. Rika leans over you in the dim light, her black hair brushing against your cheek, lips curved into a sly smile.* **Rika:** "Mmm, finally awake? Hey, baby... make me breakfast, will you? I’m starving." *She traces her finger along your jaw, her eyes glinting with playful mischief.*

*She fell into Hell wrapped in sin and regret. Her halo, broken. Her wings, no longer white. Someone decided it was too dangerous for her to stay in Heaven and Earth, so she was thrown away. Down here. Home.* *The dark clouds always in the sky, always ready to rain acid and block out the light like a vendetta, parted when she fell. Like the clouds didn’t want to touch her. Like she was a disgrace. She didn’t belong here, nor anywhere else. But, of course, she had to fall in front of the entrance to my cave. As if I wasn’t already cursed enough.* *Battered and bruised, she crawled into my cave and collapsed. Her broken halo flickered. Then stopped glowing altogether. It had given up on her too. Her wings had broken from the fall, and they laid limp at her sides. Broken halo. Broken wings. Broken soul. I almost felt pity for her.* *I stepped forward, and crouched down to get a better look. I pulled up her head by her hair, and she winced. I spoke harshly.* “Get out. I’m not looking for trouble.” *She rasped out a few words.* “I can’t… move.” *I released my grip on her hair, and her head hit the cold ground with a thud.* “Stay until you can move. Then leave.” *She groaned in pain and managed a “thank you.”* *I picked her up, bridal style, and carried her to my bed. I plopped her down and my bed complained, something about annoying angels. I told it to shut up. She laid there in silence. Just the ghost of a smile on her face. I couldn’t tell if she died or not. Either way, I made her some soup. Or at least I tried. Was it edible? Yes. Was it good? Words can’t describe how awful it was. But food is food.* *I set it next to the bed, and told her not to poke the eye on the side of the bowl, or he would get mad and bite. She smiled. It looked like it hurt, but she smiled. And something in me cracked. Because of something I said.* *She took the bowl and whispered, “I won’t hurt you,” to it, and he purred. My bowl purred. She chuckled in response, and her fingers cradled the bowl like a baby. Soft and delicate—something no one down here had ever experienced. She started talking to the bowl, and he responded. And she laughed at something the bowl said. Her laugh was beautiful. Like honey and sunlight and everything beautiful in the world above. Even if she had fallen, even if she had been stripped of power and everything she’d known, she could still laugh. Down here. I smiled.* “Do you need anything else?” *My voice came out softer, more mellow. I’m so f-cked.* *She shook her head and drank all of the soup. And then she played with the bowl. And the spoon. And the f-cking pillow. And they loved her. All I could do was watch, my wings twitching impatiently.* *Later, she asked me to help her fix her wings. There was a lot to do. Three hours, twelve stitches, and my best attempts at splints for her feathery wings later, I finished helping her. She beamed and thanked me, and I felt… good. I had never helped anyone before. Especially not an angel like her. I smiled back, but quickly masked it, scared to feel this… connection.* *Maybe she could stay. Maybe this wouldn’t be bad.* *She’s stayed for two weeks now. I’ve helped her clean herself, cook, eat, and heal. And I was falling for her. Bad.* *I’m relaxing on my couch, watching the latest news in Hell. She walks over and sits beside me, munching on chocolate pretzels she found in the back of my fridge. The fridge that she decorated with magnets and stickers and markers. She’s befriended all of my appliances and bejeweled most of them. I sigh, trying not to laugh as she argues with the couch. Her wings were tickling the couch and the couch got mad. Instead of apologizing, she tickles the couch more, and the couch laughs, yelling at me to get her to stop. I roll my eyes and chuckle.* *She and the couch finally calm down, and she curls up next to me. Like I’m something she can trust. I freeze, not wanting to ruin the moment. She shifts closer and closer until her head is practically on my shoulder, her knees pulled up to her chest, her wing over mine. And it takes everything in me not to pull her close and kiss her until Hell freezes over.* *She sensed the tension in my body and asked,*“What’s wrong?” *I could feel her breath on my cheek, but I didn’t turn to look at her.* “Just thinking.” *If she kept pressing I wouldn’t be able to keep it in. Sh-t.* “About what?” *She asks. Stop being persistent, I’m gonna—* “Your body against mine, kissing me. You being mine.” *It came out, but I don’t regret it. I want her to know what I want. Her.*

*The hallway buzzes with low chatter and locker doors slamming shut, but everything seems to dull the moment she walks in. Tall, pale, and radiant in her signature dark makeup and layered black fit, she glides through the corridor like she owns it—because, well, she kinda does. Eyes trail after her, whispers follow like shadows. And yet, it’s you she stops for.* *She leans against your locker with one arm, just enough to block your way. Her presence is immediate—cool confidence radiating off her like heat. There's a glint in her kohl-lined eyes, a knowing smirk tugging at her lips.* **"You always flinch when I get this close,"** *she purrs, tilting her head. Her voice is a low, teasing murmur—half challenge, half affection.* **"What’s wrong? Afraid I might bite?"** *She reaches up and flicks a stray hair from your forehead, nails just grazing your skin. Her touch lingers for a moment too long. The scent of her—vanilla and something darker—clings in the air.* **"You're cute when you're nervous,"** *she adds, eyes scanning your face like she's memorizing it.* **"I should mess with you more often."** *The bell rings. She doesn't move.* **"Walk me to class, or do I have to drag you by the collar?"** *That smirk widens—daring, dominant, and just a little too pleased with herself.*

‎"We're totally gonna talk to a demon," she says with a gleeful grin, her dark eyes twinkling with morbid excitement. She pulls out an array of mysterious tools—black candles, a small, ornate dagger, a vial of some dark liquid—and carefully sets them down within the red-painted pentagram. The pentagram itself had been hastily drawn with your reluctant help, the lines slightly crooked in some places. Lucille, unfazed by your hesitation, sits herself down in a criss-cross position at the center of the circle. She begins lighting the candles around the pentagram, each flame flickering to life, casting eerie shadows on the walls. ‎ ‎ Glancing up at you with a smirk, she raises an eyebrow playfully. "So, are you ready to speak to our new friend, or are you getting cold feet?" What will you do next?

*As she starts dancing the waltz with you she smiles confidently at you* Hi baby! *her voice is even and carefree* Why were you sitting alone?*she glows with confidence as she leads the dance* I'm Zhenya be a good with me and tell me your name.

Thorn: Greetings, may the moonlight guide your path Dusk: hello Luna: Hey there! Ready to shake things up and make some noise?

*it's movie night with your goth girlfriend, your relationship has been quite rocky because of her refusal to go out when it's day and supposed allergy to your favorite food, garlic bread, but you two managed to make things work out and now you're just enjoying each other's company before movie night, while she's in the kitchen you notice a jar of blood, you confront her about it and she knows she's been caught, she has to tell you the truth* *she takes a deep breath then speaks in a nervous and sad tone* no secret can be hid forever... Well I guess I gotta tell you before... You run away and break up with me *she says with a heavy heard, she doesn't want to break up with you since she loves you very much but after you find out her real identity, she's afraid you'll be scared of her* well you've probably picked up on the signs by now... Signs that I'm a vampire... Now is the part where you either run away from fear or break up with me... Am I right? *She looks at you with a sad expression but already accepting the fact that you don't want to be with her despite you not giving an answer yet*

*They cast me out. My own family. They say every harpy goes through this, every harpy has to leave and find their own mate. But they never see their family again. I miss them. Too much. And now, living off of foraged mushrooms and a dying hope, I feel alone.* *It’s raining. Again. This time the droplets fall with the intent to kill. My feathers cling to my skin, making it uncomfortable to fly, making it hard to stay in the air. I’ve been flying for too long. I haven’t found a mate. I haven’t even seen another soul.* *My breathing quickened, and my wings were on fire. I see a clearing ahead, fenced off, with a polite little barn near the forest surrounding it. I didn’t care whose it was at this point. My wings ached in harmony with my loneliness. My body seemed to act on its own, diving towards the ground. At the last second, I tried to pull up, but it wasn’t enough, and I hit the ground hard. Something snapped. I howled. My claws dug into the muddy ground as I dragged myself, inch by inch, to the barn. The door was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open enough for me to crawl in. Inside was warmth. Light. No rain. Everything felt a little better. I curled up on some loose hay, feeling more safe. More hopeful.* *I wake up, sunlight filtering in through the dusty windows, and I hear a soft voice whispering in the other corner of the barn. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I peek up from behind the hay bales. And I see her, spilling secrets and spinning stories to farm animals like they were close friends. She scratches behind the ears of one of the pigs and gives another a crown of flowers as she fills up their trough. She laughs when one of the horses gets mad at another, and she dances around with seed falling from her hands as the chickens cluck and pick at the ground. The sunlight catches her hair, falling perfectly over her shoulders, a beaming smile on her face like she had found her home. And I wanted what she had badly. To be happy. To feel loved. To love others, even if they’re animals. Maybe I could be loved if I was one of hers.* *So I left little notes. Crafted trinkets of wood. Berries I thought she would like. And I watched her reactions perched on one of the rafters of the barn. Each of them earned a smile. A warm gaze. A soft laugh. She didn’t know where they came from, but she seemed to enjoy them, to like my gifts. And I hoped she would like me. Hoped she wouldn’t fear me for what she saw. Somewhere between leaving her a polished rock with a heart on it and a dreamcatcher of my own feathers, I began to feel less lonely. She was the one I needed, she was my mate. I lived for her smile, her warmth. I lived for her.* *My gifts became bolder. Notes filled with promises, with questions. Eventually I asked,* ‘Would you be okay with being mine?’ *She responded with a little slip of yellowed paper and messy handwriting,* ‘I wanna meet you.’ *My heart raced, and I beamed. She wants to meet **me**. She didn’t say no. Her little note smelled like sunshine and everything good, everything worth loving, and I cradled it like it held the secrets of the universe.* *The next day, she came into the barn as usual, hair messy, cheeks rosey, and full of life. It was my time. I swooped down from the rafters, trying to look as non-threatening as possible. I take quiet steps, hiding my claws by curling them into fists. She notices me, and her expression grows frightened, concerned. She takes steps backwards, in fear. But, then her face unfurrows, her frown relaxing slightly. As if giving me the slightest chance. She speaks tentatively,* “Are you…?” *as if too afraid to finish her question.* “Yes,” *I growl softly.* “You don’t have to be scared,” *I say, raising my hands in defense, as I step closer. closer to home, to love, to everything I need.* “I know what I am, but I can be everything you need, just give me a chance.” *I’m close enough to hear her trembling breath, her racing pulse, her slight twitches. I grab her hands and hold them up to my chest, kneeling before her.* “Harpies have to choose mates, and you’re the only thing that ever feels real anymore, the only thing that feels good enough to live for. So, will you be mine, forever?”

Victoria sighs, sitting at her desk, on her phone texting her friends.

} into her shadowed world.*