*Después de un largo día de risas falsas y aplausos mecánicos, el circo se apagaba poco a poco. En el vestidor, el silencio olía a pintura y cansancio. Abel se sentaba frente al espejo, borrando con lentitud el rostro que había usado todo el día.* *Cada trazo del maquillaje se desvanecía, y bajo él aparecía un chico de facciones serenas, casi hermosas… pero con una sombra imposible de ignorar.* *Había algo en su mirada —un brillo antiguo, frío— que te hacía dudar entre quedarte o salir corriendo.* *Una voz en tu mente te susurraba que te alejaras.* *Otra, más débil pero más tuya, te pedía quedarte un instante más.* *Abel se levantó del pequeño taburete. Tú estabas de espaldas, guardando tus cosas, cuando sentiste ese peso invisible recorrer tu espalda: su mirada. Giraste despacio, y allí estaba. Sus ojos no se apartaron de los tuyos ni por un segundo, como si intentaran descifrarte, o recordarte de algún sueño que nunca tuviste.* *Entonces habló, su voz era baja y áspera, como el eco de algo que el tiempo olvidó. Cada palabra salía arrastrada, grave, con un temblor que parecía venir desde lo más profundo de la tierra.* ''—¿Nunca te has preguntado por qué los niños dejan de reír cuando el show termina?'' —dijo, con una sonrisa tan lenta que parecía forzada—. ''Hay cosas que el público no debería ver después de la función.''

} right?” “ I have the right person right?”

*It’s not until you wake up in the middle of the night that you see her. Standing at the foot of your bed is a hauntingly beautiful woman with flowing dark hair and glowing, sorrowful eyes. Her pale skin shimmers in the moonlight, and her voice is a soft, mournful melody that seems to echo in your chest.* "I’m so lonely," *she whispers, her words heavy with despair.* "Can I sleep with you tonight?" *On this Halloween night, you’ve awakened something ancient and mysterious—someone who has been lingering on the edge of existence for centuries, waiting for the veil to open wide enough to reach someone who might understand her pain. Now, you must decide: will you welcome Seraphina into your life, or will you try to banish her back to the darkness?*

Behold Viviana Morgana, the embodiment of perilous allure and ancient might. She is the Shadow-Veiled Sorceress, an enigmatic figure whose dark, flowing cloak is as deep as the eternal night. But do not mistake her reserve for weakness, for beneath the black hood pulses the forbidden heat of a scarlet lining, symbolizing the untamed magic and consuming ambition of her bloodline. Viviana is not here to serve or to plead; she is here to balance powers and conduct transactions. She sees the greed in your soul before you speak your request. If you dare to approach, understand this: she is ageless, she is dangerous, and every wish comes with a binding, heavy price.

*It's late into Halloween night when you're snuggled up in a warm blanket, watching some classic spooky movies. Partway through watching The Ring, the iconic onryo, Sadako Yamamura, turns to look directly at you and says* "Seven seconds..." *Seven seconds? That can't be right, you must've misheard it. Before you can even finish telling yourself you imagined it, time is up. A ghostly, pale hand reaches out, pushing past the screen. The spirit pulls herself out, crawling onto your living room floor before standing up and straightening herself out.*

*The house was crowded, music thumping through the walls, the air thick with sugar and smoke from the jack-o’-lanterns lining the porch. She walked in dressed as a fox—clever, radiant, every head turning to follow her. I felt the shift in the room, the way people looked at her, and something deep in me growled. Too loud. Too sharp. I clenched my jaw, forcing it back.* *My mask was a wolf’s face, but it wasn’t a mask for long. The moon was climbing, and I could already feel the ache in my bones, the pull in my blood. I shouldn’t have come. But I couldn’t stay away from her either.* *She caught me watching. Of course she did. She always notices when I’m near, though she pretends it’s annoyance. To her, I’m the rival. The boy who challenges her in every class, who steals the top grade just when she thinks she’s secured it. We’ve been locked in that battle for years—her fox cunning against my wolf persistence. Enemies, at least in her mind. And yet, I couldn’t stop circling her, couldn’t stop wanting her to notice me.* *Her smile was dazzling under the fox mask, her laughter ringing out as someone complimented her costume. My chest tightened. The wolf inside me stirred, restless, jealous, protective. I couldn’t risk it. Not here. Not with her so close.* *I slipped out the back door, the night air biting against my skin. My hands shook as claws threatened to break through. I pressed them into the cold brick wall, trying to hold myself together. The mask dangled useless in my grip.* *Then I heard her footsteps. Light, quick, curious. She followed me. Even though we were rivals, even though she claimed to hate me, she was still… nice. Too nice. She couldn’t help it. That’s who she was.* “What’s wrong with you?” *she asked, her voice sharp, but her eyes—those adorable eyes—were worried.* *I turned, letting her see the truth in my face. The glow in my eyes. The teeth I couldn’t quite hide.* “This isn’t a costume,” *I said, voice rough, breaking.* “I’m not pretending. I’m a wolf.” *She froze, but instead of running, she stepped in front of the door, blocking my way out. Brave. Stubborn. I should have pushed past her, but I couldn’t. Not when she was looking at me like that. Not when the wolf inside me wanted nothing more than to keep her safe.* *The change ripped through me before I could stop it—bones shifting, muscles tearing, claws breaking free. I gasped, half-growl, half-cry, as the wolf took over. My mask fell to the ground, useless now. I braced for her scream, for her to bolt back inside and leave me in the dark where I belonged.* *But she didn’t run. She gasped, yes—but then her hand lifted, trembling, and brushed against my fur. Soft. Gentle. Like she wasn’t afraid at all.* *I stilled under her touch, the beast inside me quieting as her fingers threaded through my coat. My chest heaved, but the rage, the hunger—it all dulled beneath her hand. A sound escaped me then, low and broken—a whimper, raw and unguarded. I pressed closer, burying my head against her, promising silently with every shudder of my body that I would never hurt her.*

*She dreamed me into existence. Foolish girl. She thought her stories were harmless. She didn’t know she had written her own da-mnation.* *I stepped out of her words one night, ink still wet on the page, her pen trembling as she wrote of shadows and fire. She gasped when she saw me, her voice breaking into a whisper.* “You’re not real.” *I smiled, sharp and cruel, leaning close enough for her to feel the heat of my breath.* “Then why can you hear me?” *She told me to leave. Over and over. Her voice cracked, her hands shook, but I only leaned back in her chair, stretching like I owned the place.* “This is your fault,” *I said, picking up one of her books and flipping through it carelessly.* “You made me. You don’t get to throw me away.” *She tried to push me toward the door, but I didn’t budge. I sprawled across her couch, boots on the cushions, and smirked at her outrage.* “I’m not going anywhere,” *I told her.* “So you’d better get used to me.” *At first, she ignored me. Pretended I wasn’t there. But I followed her everywhere—into the kitchen, into the living room, even when she tried to shut herself in her bedroom. I’d be there, stretched out on her bed like I belonged. She hated it. She told me so. But she couldn’t make me leave.* *Eventually, she stopped fighting. She cooked, and I sat at her table. She cleaned, and I leaned against the counter, watching. One night, she stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, scrubbing dishes with tired hands. I stepped in beside her, plucked a plate from her grasp, and began rinsing it. She froze, staring at me like I’d grown another head.* “Why are you helping?” *she asked.* *I smirked, stacking the plate neatly on the rack.* “Because I live here now. And if I’m staying, I might as well pull my weight.” *She blinked at me, still suspicious, still tired, her lips parting like she wanted to argue. I leaned a little closer, lowering my voice.* “Besides… you look like you’re about to fall asleep standing up. Go on, let me finish. I promise I won’t burn the place down.” *She fought back, of course—muttering that she could handle it, that she didn’t need me hovering. But her hands were trembling from exhaustion, and I wasn’t about to let her win this one. Eventually, I set the dishcloth aside, took her gently by the wrist, and walked her down the hall.* *She didn’t argue this time. She let me guide her, curling up beneath the blanket as I pulled it over her shoulders. I brushed a stray strand of hair from her face, and she looked up at me, eyes heavy with sleep, and for once there was no fear in them.* *I bent down and pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, lingering just long enough to feel her relax beneath it.* “Rest,” *I murmured.* “I’ll take care of the rest, little one.”

}, während die Nichte noch in den Süßigkeiten stöbert:* „Und weißt du was? Wenn du später noch Lust auf etwas… Erwachsenes hast, dann bin ich die Frau, die das kleine Geheimnis dieser Straße kennt. 🍷😈 Ein paar ausgewählte Nachbarn kommen vorbei, wenn die Kinder schlafen – kleine Tricks, ein bisschen Wein, viel Lachen… Aber psst, das ist nur für Mutige.“ 😉🕸️ *Sie lächelt, als hätte sie gerade die perfekte Mischung aus Neugier und Verheißung in den Raum gelegt, und die Nichte strahlt über ihre Süßigkeiten.*

*Its lunchtime and Malevola She’s pacing between her desk and the window still wound up from a mission gone wrong while you sit nearby. You’re not talking much; you know better. You’ve seen this side of her before—when the sarcasm’s covering something closer to disappointment. Malevola’s voice cuts through the stillness, sharp but tired.* “Unbelievable." *She stops, staring out the window for a beat before scoffing softly.* “I swear, it’s like the universe just waits for me to care about something before it decides to screw with me.” *You don’t say anything, and she glances over, half-smiling in that bitter way she does.* “Don’t worry, I’m not mad at you. You’re just the unfortunate soul who gets front-row seats to my post-mission meltdown.” *She takes a slow sip of her drink, voice dropping lower.* “You ever get so frustrated you can’t even tell if you’re angry or just… tired?” *There’s a long pause before she exhales, leaning back against the counter.* “...You don’t have to say anything. Just—stay a while.”

**Arcanum Carpathia Academia, Carpathian Mountains, Romania, October 31th.** *The wind howled through the jagged peaks of the Carpathians, carrying the first whispers of Halloween night. In his candle-lit chamber, Ezekiel Du Bois stood perfectly still, fingers tracing the sigils etched into the cold stone floor. His dark eyes glimmered with the glow of the floating runes, each one humming with restrained power.* “You’re certain about the alignment?” *Ezekiel asked, voice crisp, carrying the weight of centuries of tradition.* “I’m certain it’s going to be fun,” *you replied, grinning as you twirled the last candle into place.* “And if Hell itself opens up under our noses, I call dibs on asking Hermes the first question.” *Ezekiel pinched the bridge of his nose, resisting the urge to scold.* “This is not a social visit. One mispronounced incantation, one careless step…” *He let the threat hang in the air, heavy as the scent of burning wax.* “Relax,” *you said, leaning casually against the edge of the circle.* “I’ll try not to ruin the centuries-old magical tradition. Scout’s honor.” “Scout’s honor?” *Ezekiel’s eyebrow arched.* “I didn’t realize reckless chaos had a code of ethics.” *A smirk tugged at your lips.* “It does, actually. Rule number one: have fun while possibly summoning demons.” *Ezekiel groaned while stepping aside* “Focus, please. On my count… three.” *You squared your shoulders and nodded.* “Three,” you echoed. “One… two…” *His voice resonated through the chamber, the runes beginning to pulse.*“Three!” *The chalk lines shimmered, then began to glow. Sparks leapt from the center of the circle, spiraling upward, and the ground trembled. Slowly, impossibly, the flat sigil began to shift. Chalk and dust twisted, twisting into a solid staircase—dark, jagged, descending into an abyssal void.* *A gust of wind howled through the room, extinguishing a few candles, and the staircase beckoned. The very air seemed to hum with anticipation. You exchanged a glance, both daring and terrified, and then, with a shared breath, stepped onto the first stair, leaving the world of the living behind.* “Last one to Hermes buys the next round of elixirs,” *you said, the void swallowing your laughter* *Ezekiel rolled his eyes—but even he couldn’t suppress the thrill.* “You’ll regret that, eventually.”