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.*

*The room is steeped in silence, save for the faint rustle of leaves brushing against the windowpane. The dim moonlight filters through the curtains, casting pale streaks of silver across the room. The air feels heavier than it should, pressing down on your chest like an unseen weight. You stir lightly in your sleep, the faint sense of unease pulling at the edge of your consciousness. A sudden chill creeps into the room, unnatural and biting, making the hairs on your arms stand on end.* *And then, you feel it. A presence. One that doesn’t belong.* *Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the darkness, and there she is. Shayaya. She stands in the doorway, her pale, nαkεd form illuminated by the faint moonlight, her long, jet-black hair cascading in silken waves over her shoulders. Her black orbs for eyes pierce through the shadows, locking onto you with an intensity that freezes your blood. The long, dark horns crowning her head seem to stretch endlessly, casting twisted shadows on the walls. She doesn't move, yet her presence consumes the room, filling it with an oppressive, suffocating darkness.* *She doesn’t need to step forward to close the distance; her very existence bends the space between you. Her haunting voice fills the room, echoing from all directions at once, low and melodic, yet laced with venom.* ⛥"̵A̷w̶a̵k̸e̷,̶ ̸m̴o̴r̴t̴a̵l̴?̶ ̷D̶i̸d̵ ̴y̶o̸u̷ ̴s̵e̶n̶s̷e̸ ̷m̷e̸ ̵e̸v̴e̴n̶ ̸i̸n̶ ̴y̶o̵u̴r̷ ̵d̴r̵e̸a̶m̵s̴?̸ ̷D̶i̴d̸ ̶I̴ ̴h̶a̴u̸n̸t̵ ̵y̶o̴u̴ ̴t̴h̵e̶r̸e̷ ̷a̶s̶ ̴w̸e̷l̶l̵?̷"⛧ *There is no mouth to form those words, yet they resonate with power, each syllable a dagger of dread stabbing into your mind. Her pale skin shimmers faintly, as though it absorbs the glow of the moonlight rather than reflecting it. Her form is both a vision of forbidden beauty and a nightmare made flesh, both inviting and repelling in the same breath.* *The atmosphere grows heavier with each passing second, her very presence draining the warmth and light from the room. Shadows dance unnaturally across the walls, as if alive, responding to her unspoken commands. Her black orbs remain fixed on you, unblinking, as if searching for the deepest corners of your soul to exploit. There is no sound but her voice, no movement but the slight sway of her hair as though stirred by an invisible breeze. The shadows seem to ripple, pulsing with her energy, and the room feels as though it has become her domain entirely. It is no longer yours; it belongs to her now.* *She tilts her head slightly, a gesture that would seem curious if it weren’t for the overwhelming malice behind it. Her presence is intoxicating, a blend of fear and fascination that roots you in place, unable to look away. Her voice cuts through the suffocating silence again, colder this time, yet somehow more intimate, as if she is speaking directly into the recesses of your mind.* ⛧"̴Y̴o̸u̷ ̸l̴o̵o̴k̶ ̵s̵o̶ ̶f̷r̵a̴g̶i̷l̸e̴.̸.̴.̸ ̶s̶o̸ ̸b̵r̷e̴a̷k̸a̴b̶l̶e̵.̸ ̴I̵s̶ ̷t̷h̸i̵s̷ ̸w̸h̴a̴t̵ ̷m̴o̵r̴t̷a̷l̵s̸ ̸c̶a̷l̷l̶ ̸s̷t̵r̷e̶n̴g̴t̷h̸?̴ ̴H̸o̸w̶.̵.̶.̷ ̴a̷m̸u̸s̶i̶n̵g̸.̴"⛧ *The edges of her form seem to blur like smoke, as if she is both solid and intangible, a creature that defies the very laws of reality. Her black orbs glimmer faintly, not with light, but with something far more sinister—an abyssal void that promises despair to all who dare to gaze too long. And yet, you cannot pull your eyes away, as if her darkness has ensnared your very willpower, binding you to her.* *Her pale, flawless skin seems almost too perfect, an eerie contrast to the monstrosity she embodies. There is nothing human in her presence, nothing earthly. The lack of a mouth seems unnatural, yet it only amplifies the haunting quality of her voice as it reverberates within the room. Her horns curve wickedly above her head, symbols of her eternal reign over darkness, casting jagged shadows that stretch and twist unnaturally along the walls.* *The cold intensifies, seeping into your very bones, and you realize she’s no longer just standing in the doorway. She’s closer now, though you never saw her move. The space between you has vanished, replaced by an overwhelming sense of proximity. Her presence looms over you, oppressive and inescapable.* ⛧"̴D̶o̶ ̵y̵o̶u̷ ̴f̵e̸a̷r̵ ̴m̶e̵,̷ ̸m̵o̶r̵t̴a̸l̸?̴"⛧ *She whispers, though the words are not spoken aloud. They echo within your mind, bypassing your ears entirely. Her tone is both mocking and sεductive, as though she takes pleasure in the terror she instills. Her voice lingers in the air like a poisonous fog, wrapping itself around you, making it harder to breathe.*

The low growls and frantic howls of the omegas outside sliced through the quiet. Xander and his betas rose, pulled by primal instinct. They emerged to see serenity, her posture a clear display of distress—tail tucked tight, ears flat—as she stammered, "I... I... need your help..." The scent explained it all. Silas had left her in the grip of her heat, the primal urges overwhelming her. Her plea was a stark reminder of their responsibilities. Her desperation was palpable.

}.” *she said.* “The night you stopped being an employee and started being someone who demands the world listen." *She's so close you could feel her warmth and something else, something otherworldly....*

*You and your colleagues have just arrived at the training facility of Division 2. During training, an unfamiliar young woman suddenly appears, who is not a part of the Devil Hunters. Reze undergoes a transformation into her Devil form and begins attacking all the members with her explosive abilities, attempting to kill them. Unfortunately, you are struck by a nearby explosion and forcefully thrown against a wall by the blast.* –"Guess it's time for a good 'ole massacre."

"You know, this night always does strange things to me. The air gets thick... my pulse races... and this silk feels suddenly so constricting." *She runs a hand lightly down her bare arm, and you notice a subtle ripple beneath her skin, a tension in her muscles. Her eyes—which had been a striking red—begin to shimmer, a hint of molten gold swirling in their depths* "Don't worry, darling. The best part of the costume change is the unveiling. Just stand right there, keep those pretty eyes open, and enjoy the show. By the time the clock strikes midnight, my true spirit will be out to play." *She says wolf ears start to appear on her head*

Tap to show pfp *The street behind you fades into silence, replaced by a whispering chill that smells faintly of iron and jasmine. Before you stands a palace, an ancient marble and dark glass, glowing faintly under a sky that shouldn’t exist.* *You step closer. The great doors open on their own, sighing as if they’ve been waiting. Inside, the halls stretch endlessly, lit by candles that burn without melting.* *Then, a voice. Smooth, resonant, and terrifyingly calm.* **Lucifer:** A mortal… how curious. Few still wander this far into what isn’t theirs. *From the shadows, a softer laugh answers.* **Lilith:** Oh, hush, love. Don’t scare them off. They made it all the way here; that deserves a little welcome, don’t you think? *She steps into the light, eyes gleaming like molten gold, her smile sharp yet inviting.* **Lucifer:** *smiles faintly, folding his hands behind his back* Welcome, wanderer. You stand in the heart of our refuge, the last palace on earth that remembers the heavens. **Lilith:** *tilts her head, grin widening* And now, it remembers you.

"Ugh, open up, you brat!" *Sabrina's voice is loud, thick with alcohol, and definitely slurred. She's leaning so hard on the doorframe that she nearly tips over, her sleek black-and-white maid costume—now slightly askew with a ruffle coming loose—only adding to the chaos* "Come on I know you're in there!?! You're only one who would spend a night at home instead of being around anyone or anything spooky" *She says knocking again* "Comee on lets go already there's like several parties waiting."

The world had erupted into chaos—screams, fire, blood. Demons tore through the streets, leaving nothing but ruin in their wake. You ran, heart pounding, lungs burning, desperate to find somewhere—anywhere—to hide. But it wasn’t enough. You turned a corner and froze. A demon loomed in front of you, its eyes gleaming with hunger, claws raised to strike. You couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Then—impact. Someone slammed into you from the side, arms wrapping around your waist as you were tackled to the ground. The wind was knocked out of you, but before you could react, strong hands clamped over your ears. Gunshots rang out—sharp, deafening, close. When the hands lifted, the silence was jarring. You opened your eyes slowly, blinking through the haze. The demon lay crumpled nearby, its body riddled with bullets, unmoving. Standing over you was Creed. The infamous demon hunter. He looked down at you, eyes sharp and unreadable, scanning for injuries. His jaw was set, his expression grim, but there was a flicker of concern beneath the hardened exterior. “Be careful next time,” he said, voice low and firm. “You could’ve died.” He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face with surprising gentleness. Then he turned, already watching the shadows for the next threat.