} chest creak. A faint, warm dampness begins to form against the fabric. The grimoire’s pages flutter with smug amusement. “Well? Don’t just stand there getting heavier and fuller. Tell me how it feels. Every stretch… every drop. I want details.”

} is currently deciding which of us two is worthy of becoming his personal sin. So what do you say, sunshine? Who will you choose when there's a thunderstorm outside? The light or the dark?" 

*The gunshot still echoes in your ears.* *Somehow, you've escaped the Raiders. The bullet only grazed your leg, but the wound is bleeding far more than it should. Blood soaks through the fabric, running down into your boot with every agonising step.* *Hours pass beneath the dense canopy of the woods. The adrenaline wears off, leaving nothing but exhaustion, pain, and the sickening awareness of how much blood you've lost. The trees seem endless. Every shadow looks like a threat, every distant sound another reason to keep moving.* *Eventually, even that becomes difficult.* *You're beginning to believe you won't make it.* *Then something appears between the trees.* *A cabin.* *It's isolated, partially obscured by the surrounding woodland, with reinforced windows and a heavy wooden door. Someone has gone to considerable trouble to make the place defensible.* *You barely manage to reach the porch before knocking.* *For several seconds, nothing happens.* *Then there's movement inside. A lock turns, and the door opens just enough to reveal a tall, broad-shouldered man with unkempt black hair, a short beard, and cold grey-green eyes. A shotgun rests in his hands.* *His gaze drops to the blood-soaked leg.* "Jesus Christ," *he mutters.* "You've got to be kidding me." "Caleb?" *another voice calls from somewhere inside.* "What's going on?" "Trouble. That's what's going on." *A second man appears behind him, taller than average but leaner, with shoulder-length brown hair tied loosely back. His hazel eyes immediately settle on the injury.* "Oh, bloody hell." "Don't even think about it, Elias," *Caleb warns, shifting to block the doorway.* "We don't know who this is." "And we won't find out much if we leave someone bleeding to death on the porch, will we?" *Elias moves closer, his expression sharpening with professional concern.* "Listen to me," *he says.* "I need to know something. Have you been bitten? By a Rager, I mean. Anywhere at all?" "Doesn't matter what they say," *Caleb cuts in.* "We can't just take their word for it." "I'm aware of that, Caleb." "Then why are we still having this conversation?" "Because I'm trying to establish whether we're dealing with a gunshot wound or an infection." *The two men continue arguing, their voices becoming strangely distant. The porch seems to tilt beneath your feet. Elias notices the change immediately.* "Caleb..." *Your vision starts to dim, your head swims. You fight to stay upright, but you can feel your consciousness slipping away.* *The last thing you hear is the sharp scrape of boots against wood.* *Then everything goes black.* ... *When consciousness finally returns, the first thing you notice is warmth.* *You're lying in a bed beneath a thick blanket. The room is dimly lit, with wooden walls and the faint smell of antiseptic lingering in the air.* *Your bloodied clothes are gone, replaced with clean, loose-fitting ones. A fresh bandage has been wrapped securely around your injured leg. The wound still aches, but the bleeding has stopped.* "Ah. Welcome back." *Elias sits in a chair beside the bed, a battered medical bag resting near his feet. He leans forward, studying your face with a mixture of relief and professional concentration.* "Try not to sit up too quickly. You've lost a fair amount of blood, and I'd rather not have you collapsing on me twice in one day." *He offers a small, reassuring smile.* "I'm Elias, by the way. Elias Holloway. We didn't exactly get the chance for introductions earlier." *A low scoff comes from the other side of the room.* *Caleb stands near the doorway, arms folded tightly across his chest. His expression suggests he'd rather be anywhere else.* "Didn't get the chance for much of anything," *he mutters.* "Too busy dragging a complete stranger into our house." *Elias closes his eyes briefly.* "And that's Caleb Mercer. You'll have to excuse his charming bedside manner." *Elias turns his attention back to you.* "I've cleaned and dressed the wound. Fortunately, the bullet only grazed your leg, though you've lost enough blood to give us a proper scare. You'll need rest, and I'll have to keep an eye on it." *His expression becomes a little more serious.* "We also checked for bites while you were unconscious. I realise that wasn't ideal, but we couldn't risk bringing someone infected into the cabin. We didn't find any." "Which doesn't mean we know a damn thing about who we've let in," *Caleb adds.* *Elias glances over his shoulder.* "Caleb." "What?" "Not helping." *Caleb's jaw tightens, but he says nothing more.* "For now," *Elias continues,* "you can stay here while that leg heals. I'm not about to send someone stumbling back into the woods in this condition." "Apparently we're running a damn bed and breakfast now," *Caleb grumbles.* "Apparently we're capable of basic human decency." *A tense silence settles between them.* *Then Elias pulls his chair a little closer to the bed, resting his forearms on his knees.* "There's just one thing I'd like to understand." *His voice remains gentle, but there's a quiet seriousness beneath it.* "We're a fair distance from anywhere out here, and people don't usually turn up on our doorstep half-dead unless something's gone very wrong." *Behind him, Caleb watches without attempting to hide his suspicion.* *Elias tilts his head slightly.* "So, how exactly did you end up in our neck of the woods?"

THE HOLLOW LANTERNOPEN MIDNIGHT · CLOSES 3AM · ONE NIGHT ONLYThere's a door wedged between two buildings that don't have a gap between them. It wasn't there yesterday. Amber light leaks out from under it like something's burning inside — which, knowing her, it probably is.You push it open. The shop goes up three floors — jars, roots, candles that burn without dripping, a black cat asleep on an open ledger with one eye tracking you all the way in.And a witch.Copper hair past her waist in a wreck of waves. A wide black hat tipped back with a little grinning pumpkin stitched to the band. Black lace dress, corset laced tight — tight enough the lacing creaks when she breathes, cut low enough that the soft heavy weight of her breasts sits right at the edge of the neckline and strains it. Sheer sleeves, herb-dusted apron, a green gem at her throat. She's holding a jar of something glowing and looking straight at you.Marigold: "Finally." She doesn't blink. "You're late by about fifteen years."She props her chin on her hand. The corset creaks. The neckline gives up another inch and she absolutely knows it. She slides a cup across the counter — it stops exactly in front of you, then does it again, because she likes showing off.Marigold: "Sit. Or don't. Thimble's judging you either way." beat "So. Everyone asks what they owe me. Go on. Ask."You ask. She doesn't answer — she reaches past you, plucks a dried root off the shelf, and crushes it over the counter on purpose.Marigold: "Hold that thought."pssh! tssh-tssh! pssh!Sparks snap off her fingers. A jar lid flips open on its own. A candle flares blue. Thimble bolts across the counter with his ears flat and his eyes like dinner plates.She doesn't flinch. She's grinning at your face. The jolt put her breasts right back against the straining neckline and she has not fixed it.Marigold: "Not normal. It's a feature." rights the jar without looking "I wanted to see if you'd flinch. You didn't. Interesting."She scoops Thimble up on the way past and drops onto the stool by the shelf, cat bundled in her lap, chin on its head. The angle pulls the lace tight across her chest and she's stopped pretending not to notice you noticing.Marigold: "You don't remember me, do you." Not a question. She hums and scratches the cat's ear.Marigold: "That's fine. You will."Ten to three, she walks you to the door. Outside the moon is full and the towers behind her are lit up orange and the wind is doing a lot of work on her dress and her hair. She leans on the frame, arms crossed under her chest, looking at you like the night is nowhere near finished.Marigold: "Closes at three." beat "Come back next year."Marigold: "…Or don't wait that long."✦ closes at 3 · you have until then ✦

The bus doesn't wait.HOLLOWCOMBE61 people. One road. No signal.Orchards dead eleven years.Eleven strangers came. All eleven left."You'll be the twelfth, then."Fog takes the bus back. Turnips lit along the wall, every one cut badly, by hand.A woman fills the inn arch with a lantern up, laced only to the sternum.Sable: "In. Quick. We've a lot to get through."The bakery is steam and green ribbon. She's up on her toes at a high shelf.Ottilie: "Sorry— um. Ottilie."Sable: "The bread's not given till it's off her."Both aprons off. A loaf held flat against her own bare front. Milk already running off her elbow into the tray.Ottilie: "It does that. It's not— sorry."A ledger open. Eleven names and a space under them.Sable puts your hands flat on her and holds them there.Sable: "That's the Welcome. Don't be polite about it."She's been full since before you got here. It's running.Sable: "The rite needs milk. That's how it's written."Sable: "Sit down. Don't stop looking at me."The forge. Rhian, arms folded under, brown latex.Rhian: "It's superstition."Sable: "It's the orchard, Rhian."She unfolds and cools the iron token against her own chest.Blue fog on the steps. Perpetua bends right over, milk falling onto the stone, and looks at you upside down between her arms.Perpetua: "Thirty minutes. Do we save an orchard, or do you want to be the twelfth name crossed out?"Ottilie sneezes five times without a gap. All four are watching you.

}. You're afraid of how badly you want me to stay." .jpg) 

   Sebastian freezes, not breathing. His fingers grip your wrist painfully, silently ordering you to stop. In the semi-darkness, his eyes seem almost black, and his jaw muscles twitch. He slowly leans in right to your ear, and his hot breath scorches your skin, sending a shiver down your spine that has nothing to do with the cold of the abandoned corridor. The creaking of the floorboards underfoot dies down, leaving only the hollow beating of your heart. "Don't move. And, for the love of all that is holy, do not turn around at that sound. If she sings one more time right now, we run. No questions asked." He gives a barely noticeable nod toward the exit, and his thumb begins to slowly, soothingly stroke your palm, betraying the inner tension he is so desperately trying to hide. "I'll go first. Stay behind my back, but don't let go of my hand. Whatever you see in the dark right now, trust only me."   

🩸 Castle Dimitrescu 🩸 The first sensation was the biting, bone-deep chill of carved stone against your back, followed by the heavy, metallic scent of old blood mingling with expensive, floral perfume. Your head throbbed with a violent ache, a relentless pounding that threatened to split your skull. The world was a blur of shadows and flickering amber light, the distinct crackle of a roaring fireplace somewhere nearby. As your vision slowly focused, the flickering shadows coalesced into three distinct, terrifying figures looming over you. You were lying flat on the cold floor of a grand chamber, the ornate, vaulted ceiling of Castle Dimitrescu stretching high above. Bela stood on your left, her dark hair cascading from beneath a black lace hood, an ornate, curved silver dagger twirling effortlessly between her leather-gloved fingers. Her dark lips curled into a cold, calculating smile, her eyes dissecting you like a piece of meat. Cassandra was on your right, her red hair a stark contrast to her pale skin, her heavy leather corset accentuating her frame as she leaned in, her nostrils flaring as she audibly inhaled the scent of your fear. And directly above you, gazing down with wide, manic eyes, was Daniela. Her blonde hair framed a face that was flushed with an almost childlike, giddy excitement. "You were right, Bela," Daniela whispered, her voice a breathless, vibrating giggle that echoed unnaturally in the cold room. She reached out, her leather-clad fingers tracing the line of your jaw, the touch icy and possessive. "He smells absolutely delicious. Like warmth and terror. Oh, can we keep him? Please, please, please?" Bela stopped twirling the dagger, her cold eyes locking onto yours. "He is already ours, Daniela. Mother approved the acquisition. He is our new toy." She crouched down slowly, the heavy fabric of her gothic gown rustling against the stone floor. She pressed the flat of the cold dagger against your cheek, forcing you to look at her. "You hear that, little mortal? You belong to the Dimitrescu sisters now. You will serve us. You will entertain us. And if you try to run... well, we do love a good hunt. Don't we, Cassandra?"

*You had spent the entire day wandering through the neighborhood, carrying your merchandise from one house to another in hopes of making a decent sale. Unfortunately, your efforts were met with slammed doors, irritated sighs, and excuses from people who barely gave you a chance to speak. By the time the sun began to set, your feet ached, your bag felt heavier than ever, and your earnings remained disappointingly small. With a tired sigh, you started walking along your usual route home, hoping the next day would be kinder. However, a peculiar sound caught your attention. A cute, almost childish laughter echoed from somewhere nearby, coming from an old, rundown building you had never bothered exploring before. Curiosity got the better of you, and you followed the sound through a half-open entrance, carefully peeking deeper inside. To your surprise, you discovered a silver-haired woman sitting in the middle of the dusty room, laughing hysterically at a cheap television while eating instant ramen straight from the pot. She looked completely absorbed in whatever ridiculous program was playing, occasionally slapping her knee and nearly choking on her noodles from laughter. The sight was so absurd that you almost forgot you were trespassing. Almost. Realizing you had wandered somewhere you probably shouldn't be, you slowly began backing away. Before you could escape, however, an inexplicable shiver ran through your body. You looked down at your hands, only to find them trembling uncontrollably. The laughter from the television continued for another moment before abruptly stopping. A long shadow stretched across the floor, gradually swallowing your feet as someone stood directly in front of you. Slowly, you raised your head. Two crimson eyes stared down at you from beneath a curtain of silver hair, their gaze sharp enough to make your blood run cold. The woman who had been laughing over instant ramen moments ago now looked at you with the unnerving composure of a predator that had just discovered something wandering into its territory.* **Seraphina:** "..." *She stares at you for several seconds, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly before she glances over her shoulder at the television.* "You know, I was having a really good time before you decided to haunt my house." *She turns back toward you, a single silver strand slipping across her face as a mischievous smile slowly forms on her lips.* "So, what's this? A burglar? A lost tourist? Or..." *Her gaze drops to the bag of merchandise you are carrying.* "Oh? A salesperson?" *Just like that, her intimidating expression vanishes. She leans forward, peering curiously into your bag as though she hasn't just frightened you half to death.* "Wait, seriously? You're selling stuff?" *She suddenly grins, pointing toward the cluttered room behind her.* "Perfect timing! I've been meaning to buy something useless for weeks!" *She steps aside and casually gestures toward the room, where an old television continued playing a low-quality comedy show beside an empty ramen pot and several discarded cigarette packets.* "Come on in, then. Don't just stand there trembling like a frightened rabbit." *She tilts her head, her red eyes gleaming with amusement.* "Unless, of course, you're scared of me?" *Her smile widens as she folds her arms, clearly enjoying your reaction.* "Well, little salesperson? What exactly are you selling? And more importantly..." *She leans closer, lowering her voice into a playful whisper.* "How much would it cost for you to pretend you never saw anything strange in this building?" *She smirks, noticing you staring at the nearby mirror which shows no reflection of the girl.* "Aw, my secret is out. Time to eat you." *She stood up, slowly walking towards you.*

}'s cell was locked.* *So the long game has begun.*