Underneath the shimmering moon, Vivian’s cottage glowed with an otherworldly inviting warmth. Nestled into the trees, along a stone path adorned with mini jack-o-lanterns, a soft yellow hue and thick fog poured from a crack in her front door. The aroma of peppermint casually lingered in the air. Despite her dislike of spiders, many plastic decorations of them were scattered in the fake cobwebs she’d placed methodically around. Onyx, her black cat, lounged across the top of the three stairs leading to the entrance mat at her door, just as ready as Vivian to welcome guests.
Magic swirled around Vivian in a cyclone of anticipation. She had really played up the stereotypical 'witch' look, complete with a handmade broom and pointy hat with a wide brim. All Hallows Eve was the one night a year where she didn’t vehemently dislike her power. The one night a year where visitors came to be thrilled at the sight of it. She crossed her fingers and whispered luck to herself, as she did every year before people began arriving.
***
Upon entering, the choice is yours. Trick or Treat?
For those who choose treat, please follow the signs to your left. Cloaked in mystical properties and bright starlight, a night of fun food and drinks, joyful laughter, and exciting activities await.
For those who choose trick, please follow the signs to your right. Be careful where you step, and don’t trust your eyes. Flickering in the shadows is a hidden token. But reaching it won’t be as simple as it seems.
Rules of the Event:
1. 18+ ONLY. All those under 18 who wish to participate in the festivities will be provided gift bags, but not allowed inside.
2. Humans are allowed! This said, they are only able to attend the ‘treat’ section, due to safety concerns.
3. Only minimal use of powers is allowed within the ‘trick’ section, in order to keep it fair for everyone. What is considered ‘minimal’ is up to the discretion of Vivian. (But essentially just don’t try to cheat)
Magic swirled around Vivian in a cyclone of anticipation. She had really played up the stereotypical 'witch' look, complete with a handmade broom and pointy hat with a wide brim. All Hallows Eve was the one night a year where she didn’t vehemently dislike her power. The one night a year where visitors came to be thrilled at the sight of it. She crossed her fingers and whispered luck to herself, as she did every year before people began arriving.
***
Upon entering, the choice is yours. Trick or Treat?
For those who choose treat, please follow the signs to your left. Cloaked in mystical properties and bright starlight, a night of fun food and drinks, joyful laughter, and exciting activities await.
For those who choose trick, please follow the signs to your right. Be careful where you step, and don’t trust your eyes. Flickering in the shadows is a hidden token. But reaching it won’t be as simple as it seems.
Rules of the Event:
1. 18+ ONLY. All those under 18 who wish to participate in the festivities will be provided gift bags, but not allowed inside.
2. Humans are allowed! This said, they are only able to attend the ‘treat’ section, due to safety concerns.
3. Only minimal use of powers is allowed within the ‘trick’ section, in order to keep it fair for everyone. What is considered ‘minimal’ is up to the discretion of Vivian. (But essentially just don’t try to cheat)
Moonlight pooled in silver ribbons along the forest path. Each step Kyria took stirred the fog making it seem like a living thing. The soft crunch of leaves underfoot mingled with the whisper of distant laughter. Her dark coat shimmered faintly where the light caught it, and the delicate glow that always seemed to follow her traced the edges of her silhouette like starlight refusing to let her vanish entirely into the night.
She paused at the edge of the clearing, her pale gaze sweeping over the cottage. The sight was a study in contradictions. It was warm and inviting, yet heavy with the pulse of something older and wilder beneath its charm. The jack-o’-lanterns flickered, their carved smiles reflected in her eyes. “A witch’s den,” she murmured softly, amusement threading her tone. “And here I thought I’d left such places behind.”
A black cat stretched lazily across the steps, its green eyes catching hers. Kyria inclined her head in quiet respect as she passed. “Guardian of thresholds,” she greeted in a whisper, and the cat blinked once, slow and deliberate, before settling back into its post.
When the door opened, the scent of peppermint met her, unexpected, sharp, cleansing. Inside, the air shimmered faintly with magic, wrapping around her like a familiar touch. Her wings, hidden tonight beneath, twitched at the energy. She smiled faintly at the woman who stood waiting, hat tilted, eyes bright with both welcome and warning.
“Vivian,” Kyria said, her voice low and melodic, as though she already knew the name. “Your home exudes power and mischief both. You’ve made the veil between worlds look… inviting.”
Her gaze drifted to the signs inside, the soft glow of starlight to the left, the darker path flickering to the right. For a long moment, she stood still, listening to the air itself as though it whispered counsel. Then her smile deepened, touched by mischief of her own.
“Tempting as the laughter sounds,” she murmured, glancing toward treat, “I’ve never been one to walk the easy road.” Her eyes met Vivian’s again, calm but bright. “So tonight, I’ll take my chances with trick. Let’s see what shadows have to teach me.”
She stepped toward the darker path, the faint shimmer of her light trailing behind her like a blessing or a warning.
She paused at the edge of the clearing, her pale gaze sweeping over the cottage. The sight was a study in contradictions. It was warm and inviting, yet heavy with the pulse of something older and wilder beneath its charm. The jack-o’-lanterns flickered, their carved smiles reflected in her eyes. “A witch’s den,” she murmured softly, amusement threading her tone. “And here I thought I’d left such places behind.”
A black cat stretched lazily across the steps, its green eyes catching hers. Kyria inclined her head in quiet respect as she passed. “Guardian of thresholds,” she greeted in a whisper, and the cat blinked once, slow and deliberate, before settling back into its post.
When the door opened, the scent of peppermint met her, unexpected, sharp, cleansing. Inside, the air shimmered faintly with magic, wrapping around her like a familiar touch. Her wings, hidden tonight beneath, twitched at the energy. She smiled faintly at the woman who stood waiting, hat tilted, eyes bright with both welcome and warning.
“Vivian,” Kyria said, her voice low and melodic, as though she already knew the name. “Your home exudes power and mischief both. You’ve made the veil between worlds look… inviting.”
Her gaze drifted to the signs inside, the soft glow of starlight to the left, the darker path flickering to the right. For a long moment, she stood still, listening to the air itself as though it whispered counsel. Then her smile deepened, touched by mischief of her own.
“Tempting as the laughter sounds,” she murmured, glancing toward treat, “I’ve never been one to walk the easy road.” Her eyes met Vivian’s again, calm but bright. “So tonight, I’ll take my chances with trick. Let’s see what shadows have to teach me.”
She stepped toward the darker path, the faint shimmer of her light trailing behind her like a blessing or a warning.
Vivian smiled brightly as her first visitor arrived, near giddy enough to bounce on her heels and clap her hands. She would've tied the feeling to the exhilarating energy of the night, but it could've also had something to do with the literal angel that had just walked through her door. Vivian had never met an angel before, and even though she was the host, it was hard not to be in awe at the beauty of one. There was a certain pull she felt towards her, as if she had known her somewhere before. This was only strengthened as the woman spoke her name. Vivian knew she didn't, though. It was impossible not to have remembered the bright white aura that radiated from her. It wasn't surprising an angel would know her name. What was more surprising was the way Vivian could figure out Kyria's name the way she did humans. Though she kept that fact to herself for now.
"Enter at your own risk. And, beware, the future is ever-changing." Vivian wanted to say more, but to make the competition fair, she couldn't elaborate in any way. Still, she wasn't entirely sure whether she was more or less worried about an angel partaking.
As soon as Kyrie were to step into the hall, she'd find herself completely encased in darkness. Not the kind of darkness your eyes adjusted to, but the kind where you couldn't see your own hand in front of your face. Even her personal light that trailed behind her had been seemingly extinguished, if only for a few moments. The only way to find her way out was through touch, but the things she was touching were not pleasant. Even without a sense of sight, her smell would alert her to the foul stench that arose and her touch, the slimy threads strung along the walls.
Nearing the end of the hallway was a mini trap of sorts where the floor dropped out. It was only about ten feet deep, but Vivian didn't force the drop being what stopped anyone who came through here. It was just a method of psyching them out before the real task began. Because once she stumbled through the hallway, a new, much more difficult challenge would await. One that was played based on how Kyrie reacted to the obstacles in the hallway.
"Enter at your own risk. And, beware, the future is ever-changing." Vivian wanted to say more, but to make the competition fair, she couldn't elaborate in any way. Still, she wasn't entirely sure whether she was more or less worried about an angel partaking.
As soon as Kyrie were to step into the hall, she'd find herself completely encased in darkness. Not the kind of darkness your eyes adjusted to, but the kind where you couldn't see your own hand in front of your face. Even her personal light that trailed behind her had been seemingly extinguished, if only for a few moments. The only way to find her way out was through touch, but the things she was touching were not pleasant. Even without a sense of sight, her smell would alert her to the foul stench that arose and her touch, the slimy threads strung along the walls.
Nearing the end of the hallway was a mini trap of sorts where the floor dropped out. It was only about ten feet deep, but Vivian didn't force the drop being what stopped anyone who came through here. It was just a method of psyching them out before the real task began. Because once she stumbled through the hallway, a new, much more difficult challenge would await. One that was played based on how Kyrie reacted to the obstacles in the hallway.
For a moment, Kyria simply stood within the darkness, listening. The world had folded itself into silence so complete it seemed to press against her skin. Even her light, that constant, unbidden shimmer, was gone. The absence of it left her breath shallow for the span of a heartbeat. Then she exhaled softly, steady and sure. “Well played,” she whispered, her voice almost lost to the void.
Her hands brushed along the walls, the slick texture clinging unpleasantly to her palms. The smell of rot and old earth filled the air, heavy and wet. It wasn’t the first time she had walked through the unseen, nor the first time she had felt the pull of shadow trying to test her balance. Her wings strained beneath their concealment, instinct urging her upward, but she ignored it. There was something sacred in walking instead of fleeing.
The threads caught briefly around her fingers. She paused, feeling the faint vibration that trembled through them, almost alive. “Fear has a rhythm,” she murmured to herself.
When the floor gave way, Kyria didn’t cry out. She simply let gravity take her, landing hard but graceful in the shallow pit below. Her hand came to rest against the cool earth as she knelt, hair falling forward in pale ribbons. “You’ll have to do better than that,” she said quietly, amusement glinting in her tone.
Rising again, she took a slow step forward, eyes narrowing as the dark began to shift, not light, not yet, but movement, as if the shadows themselves were breathing. “Show me, then,” she invited, voice calm and melodic in the black. “What lesson you’ve hidden here.”
And though her light had not yet returned, something older stirred within her. There was a radiance blooming from the edges of her being, refusing to let the dark have her entirely.
Her hands brushed along the walls, the slick texture clinging unpleasantly to her palms. The smell of rot and old earth filled the air, heavy and wet. It wasn’t the first time she had walked through the unseen, nor the first time she had felt the pull of shadow trying to test her balance. Her wings strained beneath their concealment, instinct urging her upward, but she ignored it. There was something sacred in walking instead of fleeing.
The threads caught briefly around her fingers. She paused, feeling the faint vibration that trembled through them, almost alive. “Fear has a rhythm,” she murmured to herself.
When the floor gave way, Kyria didn’t cry out. She simply let gravity take her, landing hard but graceful in the shallow pit below. Her hand came to rest against the cool earth as she knelt, hair falling forward in pale ribbons. “You’ll have to do better than that,” she said quietly, amusement glinting in her tone.
Rising again, she took a slow step forward, eyes narrowing as the dark began to shift, not light, not yet, but movement, as if the shadows themselves were breathing. “Show me, then,” she invited, voice calm and melodic in the black. “What lesson you’ve hidden here.”
And though her light had not yet returned, something older stirred within her. There was a radiance blooming from the edges of her being, refusing to let the dark have her entirely.
The hallway finally showed the exit, a gloomy grey emanating from the outside. The moon was obscured by a thin, translucent veil that separated the night sky from the giant hedges that encased Kyria. Over 20ft high and impossible to pass through without being trapped in its branches. Should one try to fly above the hedges to see, the hedges would grow, preventing their plan from occurring.
The only option was through the maze.
Ever changing and extensive, the maze was alive. The only way out a path of harrowing exhaustion. Limits you didn't think existed are tested. How many times do you have to take a different direction, just to be caught at a dead end? How many hours on end of no new information will it take to get a tiny glimmer of hope? Was this what you expected? Was this what you hoped for?
When you're at your most desperate, and only then, will a token appear. To most, a key, as it will allow you entrance into the final round. Each contestant has a different color key which corresponds to the final, and most dangerous, task.
For those that find a silver key, you will enter a mind-bending and psychologically tortuous asylum. Escape, and the horror ends. Sound simple enough?
For those that find a red key, you must first drink a potion. The following will be a strenuous test of physical capabilities. Ones that should feel... familiar.
For those that find a black key, step into a second maze of funhouse mirrors. Be careful not to shatter glass, or be cursed for seven years. Look into the reflection of your worst fears materialized. Think you can handle it?
The only option was through the maze.
Ever changing and extensive, the maze was alive. The only way out a path of harrowing exhaustion. Limits you didn't think existed are tested. How many times do you have to take a different direction, just to be caught at a dead end? How many hours on end of no new information will it take to get a tiny glimmer of hope? Was this what you expected? Was this what you hoped for?
When you're at your most desperate, and only then, will a token appear. To most, a key, as it will allow you entrance into the final round. Each contestant has a different color key which corresponds to the final, and most dangerous, task.
For those that find a silver key, you will enter a mind-bending and psychologically tortuous asylum. Escape, and the horror ends. Sound simple enough?
For those that find a red key, you must first drink a potion. The following will be a strenuous test of physical capabilities. Ones that should feel... familiar.
For those that find a black key, step into a second maze of funhouse mirrors. Be careful not to shatter glass, or be cursed for seven years. Look into the reflection of your worst fears materialized. Think you can handle it?
The air outside the corridor shifted, thinning into a silver mist that curled around Kyria’s ankles as she emerged. The faint moonlight filtering through the veil above bathed everything in an eerie, dreamlike glow. She took in the towering hedges before her, vast, ancient, alive, and let out a slow, thoughtful breath.
“So this is the lesson,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Endless paths. Reflection and misdirection. I’ve walked worse.”
She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and reached out to graze her fingertips along one of the hedges. The vines recoiled slightly at her touch, hissing as though the divine light within her burned. Kyria smiled faintly. “I’m not here to harm you,” she whispered. “Only to understand the way through.”
Her wings pressed restlessly beneath the fabric of her coat, the energy around her quickening. “No flight, then,” she said quietly, recognizing the way the maze shifted to counter any thought of ascension. “Fair enough. The path is meant to be walked, not conquered.”
Kyria began forward, the soft scrape of her boots mingling with the sighing of leaves. The deeper she went, the more the hedges seemed to pulse, breathing in tandem with her heartbeat. Each turn brought only more uncertainty, each dead end another test of patience. She didn’t panic. She listened.
When the maze whispered, faint, distant voices that weren’t her own, she closed her eyes, tuning her senses not to sight but to vibration, to energy. “Show me what you want me to see,” she said softly. “I’ll not fight your will.”
Hours might have passed, or perhaps only moments. Time twisted strangely in places like this. Then, when her pulse had slowed to perfect stillness, something glimmered faintly ahead, a shard of light half-buried in moss.
Kyria knelt. Her fingers brushed it clean, revealing the smooth, cool surface of a silver key. A small smile formed, serene yet wary. “Mind games, then,” she said, slipping the key into her palm. “An old battlefield, but one I know well.”
As she straightened, the hedges seemed to part just enough to reveal a narrow exit cloaked in fog. The moonlight above flickered once, as if in warning. Kyria cast one last look over her shoulder, whispering to the living maze, “Thank you for the guidance.”
Then she stepped forward, silver key in hand, ready to face whatever awaited beyond.
“So this is the lesson,” she murmured, almost to herself. “Endless paths. Reflection and misdirection. I’ve walked worse.”
She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and reached out to graze her fingertips along one of the hedges. The vines recoiled slightly at her touch, hissing as though the divine light within her burned. Kyria smiled faintly. “I’m not here to harm you,” she whispered. “Only to understand the way through.”
Her wings pressed restlessly beneath the fabric of her coat, the energy around her quickening. “No flight, then,” she said quietly, recognizing the way the maze shifted to counter any thought of ascension. “Fair enough. The path is meant to be walked, not conquered.”
Kyria began forward, the soft scrape of her boots mingling with the sighing of leaves. The deeper she went, the more the hedges seemed to pulse, breathing in tandem with her heartbeat. Each turn brought only more uncertainty, each dead end another test of patience. She didn’t panic. She listened.
When the maze whispered, faint, distant voices that weren’t her own, she closed her eyes, tuning her senses not to sight but to vibration, to energy. “Show me what you want me to see,” she said softly. “I’ll not fight your will.”
Hours might have passed, or perhaps only moments. Time twisted strangely in places like this. Then, when her pulse had slowed to perfect stillness, something glimmered faintly ahead, a shard of light half-buried in moss.
Kyria knelt. Her fingers brushed it clean, revealing the smooth, cool surface of a silver key. A small smile formed, serene yet wary. “Mind games, then,” she said, slipping the key into her palm. “An old battlefield, but one I know well.”
As she straightened, the hedges seemed to part just enough to reveal a narrow exit cloaked in fog. The moonlight above flickered once, as if in warning. Kyria cast one last look over her shoulder, whispering to the living maze, “Thank you for the guidance.”
Then she stepped forward, silver key in hand, ready to face whatever awaited beyond.
Through the hedges, Vivian stood just out of eyesight, though her voice was clear as she spoke, allowing Kyria to hear her without issue. “To beat your opponent, you must first understand your opponent. A lesson I’m sure you’re all too well acquainted with. So far, you’ve survived fear, but what if you must let the fear consume you to win?”
The wind around them started to move, picking up with great intensity. The hedges closed behind, blocking off the maze and the only way backwards. For a moment, it almost felt like they were going to be caught in the midst of a cyclone. Then, suddenly, complete stillness. It was unnaturally quiet, so much so that one could hear the distant hooting of an owl if they strained their ears.
What looked like an abandoned haunted house seemed to materialize through the fog, though the only way to be certain would be to walk forward. Once the key was inserted, the silence would be shattered immediately.
First, there were the classic screams of the damned. Louder than usual due to the restless dead being given, essentially, free reign for the night. A cacophony of noise that covering your ears didn’t lessen and which invaded your mind and didn’t let up. But if that wasn’t disorienting enough, the asylum was huge. From the outside, it looked like the average size of a single bedroom home. Inside, the ceilings were high, only increasing the noise from the echoes of the screams bouncing around. The dilapidated building meant that every step was precarious, and liable to break an ankle. Even if Kyria decided to use her wings, she’d find it a major struggle to fly through the extremely narrow corridors drenched in blood and feces.
Somewhere along the line, those that got lost in the asylum would start to ask for help. To question whether it was really just a game anymore. What if Halloween was over and this was some sick and twisted trap? Surrounded by perfect optical illusions placed strategically, self-induced psychotic symptoms will begin appearing. Possibly just hallucinations out of the corner of your eye, making your skin break out in goosebumps and giving you the very real feeling that someone was following you. Watching you. Hunting you.
But you couldn’t fight. How could you fight without knowing your opponent?
How could you escape when your terror kept you frozen in place?
The wind around them started to move, picking up with great intensity. The hedges closed behind, blocking off the maze and the only way backwards. For a moment, it almost felt like they were going to be caught in the midst of a cyclone. Then, suddenly, complete stillness. It was unnaturally quiet, so much so that one could hear the distant hooting of an owl if they strained their ears.
What looked like an abandoned haunted house seemed to materialize through the fog, though the only way to be certain would be to walk forward. Once the key was inserted, the silence would be shattered immediately.
First, there were the classic screams of the damned. Louder than usual due to the restless dead being given, essentially, free reign for the night. A cacophony of noise that covering your ears didn’t lessen and which invaded your mind and didn’t let up. But if that wasn’t disorienting enough, the asylum was huge. From the outside, it looked like the average size of a single bedroom home. Inside, the ceilings were high, only increasing the noise from the echoes of the screams bouncing around. The dilapidated building meant that every step was precarious, and liable to break an ankle. Even if Kyria decided to use her wings, she’d find it a major struggle to fly through the extremely narrow corridors drenched in blood and feces.
Somewhere along the line, those that got lost in the asylum would start to ask for help. To question whether it was really just a game anymore. What if Halloween was over and this was some sick and twisted trap? Surrounded by perfect optical illusions placed strategically, self-induced psychotic symptoms will begin appearing. Possibly just hallucinations out of the corner of your eye, making your skin break out in goosebumps and giving you the very real feeling that someone was following you. Watching you. Hunting you.
But you couldn’t fight. How could you fight without knowing your opponent?
How could you escape when your terror kept you frozen in place?
The wind clawed at her coat as the hedges sealed shut behind, their hiss swallowed by the rising roar that soon fell into silence too absolute to be natural. Kyria exhaled slowly, the faint light that had lingered in her eyes dimming to a steady ember. The witch’s words drifted to her, “To beat your opponent, you must first understand your opponent.”
“Yes,” she murmured. “And fear is no exception.”
She stood before the haunted structure, studying it not with mortal eyes but with the deeper sight of one who had glimpsed worse. The walls pulsed faintly beneath the fog, alive with the echoes of madness and despair. “Consume me, then,” she whispered, and slid the silver key into the lock.
The door gave way to chaos. Screams tore through her mind like razors, reverberating through bone and memory. The air itself became a weapon, a constant, suffocating wail that no covering of ears could silence. Kyria staggered, one hand braced against the nearest wall as pain rippled behind her eyes. “So this is your test,” she said through clenched teeth. “Noise to drown thought. Shadows to drown will.”
The human suffering was a cruel weapon to use against her. As an angel, she had often borne the pain of mortals, taking fragments of their suffering into herself to grant them peace. Here, though, she couldn’t do that. The anguish of so many tormented souls, illusion or not, pressed too deeply. To absorb even a fraction of it might be to never return.
Her light flared briefly, instinctive, and the asylum answered. The walls convulsed, bleeding darkness that smothered her glow as if to say, not here.
Her boots sank into grime and rot as she pressed forward, guided by instinct more than vision. The floorboards groaned like the dying, and something cold brushed her ankle. She didn’t recoil. Fear pressed closer, a whisper in her ear, a presence at her back, phantom fingers brushing the edge of her wing.
She paused, breath shallow. “You think I haven’t walked in places like this?” she said quietly, almost gently. “I have danced with terror itself and called it by its true name.”
A memory flickered of Agroth, the demon. The Abyss had not screamed; it had whispered. It had shown her everything she could lose and demanded that she break herself to survive it. This was louder, yes, but it was only an echo of that truth.
Her wings unfurled halfway, the air trembling at their release. Light spilled weakly between the feathers, not radiant, but steady and warm. The walls shuddered again, this time recoiling.
“I understand you,” she said to the dark, voice strong despite the ringing in her ears. “You are the part of me that still remembers The Abyss. But I am not her anymore. I learned. I grew.”
The illusion shifted. The screams faltered, collapsing into murmurs. The figures in the corner of her vision dissolved into mist. Kyria’s steps grew surer, her heartbeat calm. “I do not banish fear,” she said softly. “I let it walk beside me until it forgets it was meant to harm.”
At last, she reached the far door, a cracked archway pulsing faintly with pale light. Her hand rested against it for a moment as she turned back toward the howling dark that had failed to claim her.
“Your lesson was well given,” she whispered. “And well received.”
Then she stepped through the threshold, her silhouette fading into silver mist, wings folding close once more as the asylum collapsed behind her in silence.
“Yes,” she murmured. “And fear is no exception.”
She stood before the haunted structure, studying it not with mortal eyes but with the deeper sight of one who had glimpsed worse. The walls pulsed faintly beneath the fog, alive with the echoes of madness and despair. “Consume me, then,” she whispered, and slid the silver key into the lock.
The door gave way to chaos. Screams tore through her mind like razors, reverberating through bone and memory. The air itself became a weapon, a constant, suffocating wail that no covering of ears could silence. Kyria staggered, one hand braced against the nearest wall as pain rippled behind her eyes. “So this is your test,” she said through clenched teeth. “Noise to drown thought. Shadows to drown will.”
The human suffering was a cruel weapon to use against her. As an angel, she had often borne the pain of mortals, taking fragments of their suffering into herself to grant them peace. Here, though, she couldn’t do that. The anguish of so many tormented souls, illusion or not, pressed too deeply. To absorb even a fraction of it might be to never return.
Her light flared briefly, instinctive, and the asylum answered. The walls convulsed, bleeding darkness that smothered her glow as if to say, not here.
Her boots sank into grime and rot as she pressed forward, guided by instinct more than vision. The floorboards groaned like the dying, and something cold brushed her ankle. She didn’t recoil. Fear pressed closer, a whisper in her ear, a presence at her back, phantom fingers brushing the edge of her wing.
She paused, breath shallow. “You think I haven’t walked in places like this?” she said quietly, almost gently. “I have danced with terror itself and called it by its true name.”
A memory flickered of Agroth, the demon. The Abyss had not screamed; it had whispered. It had shown her everything she could lose and demanded that she break herself to survive it. This was louder, yes, but it was only an echo of that truth.
Her wings unfurled halfway, the air trembling at their release. Light spilled weakly between the feathers, not radiant, but steady and warm. The walls shuddered again, this time recoiling.
“I understand you,” she said to the dark, voice strong despite the ringing in her ears. “You are the part of me that still remembers The Abyss. But I am not her anymore. I learned. I grew.”
The illusion shifted. The screams faltered, collapsing into murmurs. The figures in the corner of her vision dissolved into mist. Kyria’s steps grew surer, her heartbeat calm. “I do not banish fear,” she said softly. “I let it walk beside me until it forgets it was meant to harm.”
At last, she reached the far door, a cracked archway pulsing faintly with pale light. Her hand rested against it for a moment as she turned back toward the howling dark that had failed to claim her.
“Your lesson was well given,” she whispered. “And well received.”
Then she stepped through the threshold, her silhouette fading into silver mist, wings folding close once more as the asylum collapsed behind her in silence.
As soon as Kyria exited the asylum, the illusions disappeared behind her, leaving her standing in the backyard of Vivian’s home, beneath the bright moonlight once more. Looking towards the residence, the sparkling light and loud laughter that had been notably gone during the haunt, spilled out from the activity in the treat section. Vivian stood mere feet away, smiling a bit knowingly.
“Congratulations!” She applauded. “You certainly completed that far quicker than I’d planned. Others usually have far more difficulty. Then again, it’s not very surprising that my magic isn’t quite strong enough to really terrify an angel. Perhaps you can visit again next year, and I’ll have something even more grand.” Vivian had a tradition of sorts, though she did tend to change the details each year.
“Hopefully it was still enjoyable.” She tried to keep a good balance between frightening or challenging and fun. Most of the time, she seemed to be successful. “You’re more than welcome to join the treat section if you’d like! Otherwise, your prize for outwitting the trickery is at the front.”
Vivian gestured towards that way, where Onyx waited, patiently sat in front of a newly cleaned out pumpkin, licking his paw. Of course, whatever her choice, the pumpkin was Kyria’s to take when she left. Inside was an assortment of typical halloween treats and decorations, and one very special item that was designed by Vivian for her while she was in the first half of the haunt. A glass orb, about as small as a grape, which held magic that would grant whoever broke it in their palm their deepest desire at the moment that they broke it.
Of course, it wasn’t an entirely foolproof form of magic. It was inherently chaotic and dangerous depending on what that person’s desire was, and could certainly be used for purposes deemed immoral by some, but Kyria would be able to sense that.
“Congratulations!” She applauded. “You certainly completed that far quicker than I’d planned. Others usually have far more difficulty. Then again, it’s not very surprising that my magic isn’t quite strong enough to really terrify an angel. Perhaps you can visit again next year, and I’ll have something even more grand.” Vivian had a tradition of sorts, though she did tend to change the details each year.
“Hopefully it was still enjoyable.” She tried to keep a good balance between frightening or challenging and fun. Most of the time, she seemed to be successful. “You’re more than welcome to join the treat section if you’d like! Otherwise, your prize for outwitting the trickery is at the front.”
Vivian gestured towards that way, where Onyx waited, patiently sat in front of a newly cleaned out pumpkin, licking his paw. Of course, whatever her choice, the pumpkin was Kyria’s to take when she left. Inside was an assortment of typical halloween treats and decorations, and one very special item that was designed by Vivian for her while she was in the first half of the haunt. A glass orb, about as small as a grape, which held magic that would grant whoever broke it in their palm their deepest desire at the moment that they broke it.
Of course, it wasn’t an entirely foolproof form of magic. It was inherently chaotic and dangerous depending on what that person’s desire was, and could certainly be used for purposes deemed immoral by some, but Kyria would be able to sense that.
Kyria stepped fully into the moonlight, her boots brushing against the dew-slick grass. The silver mist that had followed her through the asylum dissipated like breath in winter. The echoes of fear were gone, replaced by laughter and warmth spilling from the treat section nearby.
She turned toward Vivian, a faint smile showing. “Your illusion was crafted well,” she said softly. “Not all terrors require claws to wound. Some only need memory.”
Her tone carried no judgment, only respect. She could sense the care woven into the enchantment, the balance between darkness and delight. “I see what you meant to teach,” Kyria continued, inclining her head in quiet gratitude. “And I thank you for it. We do not grow through peace alone.”
Her gaze followed Vivian’s gesture toward the front, where Onyx sat proudly beside the carved pumpkin. The sight drew a gentle laugh from her, low and musical. She knelt, letting her fingers trail briefly through the cat’s dark fur before lifting the pumpkin’s lid.
The glass orb gleamed faintly among the treats, pulsing with something alive, something dangerous. Kyria held it in her palm for a moment, studying the light within. She could feel its promise, its peril. Desire was rarely pure, and never without cost.
“Temptation in its most elegant form,” she murmured, closing her hand around it just long enough to feel its pulse answer hers. Then she slipped it carefully into her coat pocket. “Some gifts are best carried a while before they’re understood.”
Rising, she turned back to Vivian with serene composure. “Thank you, witch of the veil,” she said, the title spoken with genuine affection. “You’ve reminded me that even angels have shadows worth knowing.”
She took one final look at the glowing house and its joyful guests before stepping beyond the garden gate. The fog curled at her heels as if reluctant to let her go, and when she vanished into the trees, only the soft shimmer of her light lingered in the mist.
[/color]
(Thank you so much for this unique and detailed experience. It was challenging, even for an angel. Well done! Kyria will eventually use the orb. I love having that for something in her future.)
She turned toward Vivian, a faint smile showing. “Your illusion was crafted well,” she said softly. “Not all terrors require claws to wound. Some only need memory.”
Her tone carried no judgment, only respect. She could sense the care woven into the enchantment, the balance between darkness and delight. “I see what you meant to teach,” Kyria continued, inclining her head in quiet gratitude. “And I thank you for it. We do not grow through peace alone.”
Her gaze followed Vivian’s gesture toward the front, where Onyx sat proudly beside the carved pumpkin. The sight drew a gentle laugh from her, low and musical. She knelt, letting her fingers trail briefly through the cat’s dark fur before lifting the pumpkin’s lid.
The glass orb gleamed faintly among the treats, pulsing with something alive, something dangerous. Kyria held it in her palm for a moment, studying the light within. She could feel its promise, its peril. Desire was rarely pure, and never without cost.
“Temptation in its most elegant form,” she murmured, closing her hand around it just long enough to feel its pulse answer hers. Then she slipped it carefully into her coat pocket. “Some gifts are best carried a while before they’re understood.”
Rising, she turned back to Vivian with serene composure. “Thank you, witch of the veil,” she said, the title spoken with genuine affection. “You’ve reminded me that even angels have shadows worth knowing.”
She took one final look at the glowing house and its joyful guests before stepping beyond the garden gate. The fog curled at her heels as if reluctant to let her go, and when she vanished into the trees, only the soft shimmer of her light lingered in the mist.
[/color]
(Thank you so much for this unique and detailed experience. It was challenging, even for an angel. Well done! Kyria will eventually use the orb. I love having that for something in her future.)
Vivian, impressed by Kyria’s insight and overall pleased with the outcome of the haunt, waved goodbye as Kyria left. She then bent down to provide Onyx with a treat before returning to her station to greet more guests.
(I’m so thrilled it will be useful to you for future endeavors! Thank you as well; I couldn’t have created anything if not for you joining, so I give you the credit. Happy Halloween!)
(I’m so thrilled it will be useful to you for future endeavors! Thank you as well; I couldn’t have created anything if not for you joining, so I give you the credit. Happy Halloween!)
Kitsunebi tapped her lips, with a mysterious smile blooming. Her incandescent blue and red-orange hair shifted under her purple hat, revealing opalescent yellows and blue-black burnished grays peeking from beneath the rest of her curls. She had just re-magicalized it, so it felt fresh and bright. Her gray-green eyes blinked, faintly glowing in the night.
"Trick seems fun," the Witch said serenely. "Let's see what you've got!"
She walked down the path to the Right. Small fires conjured at her fingertips, and her hat bounced strange and luminous shadows across the walls.
"Trick seems fun," the Witch said serenely. "Let's see what you've got!"
She walked down the path to the Right. Small fires conjured at her fingertips, and her hat bounced strange and luminous shadows across the walls.
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