Dante and his father, Victor, roamed the shadowy streets of Blackwater Hallow Town, their senses sharp and their movements calculated. The air was thick with the peculiar stillness that only full moon nights seemed to bring. To the untrained eye, the town might have appeared serene, but Dante knew better. It was a night when the boundaries between human and beast blurred, and danger often lurked where it was least expected.


    The pair’s purpose was clear: track and eliminate rogue or unstable creatures hiding among the townsfolk. Most of these creatures kept their natures hidden, but some slipped through the cracks, succumbing to malicious instincts, especially on Full Moon. Tonight, however, was different. Their focus was on a specific monster—one they had been hunting for days. Despite their relentless searches and the combined efforts of other hunters, it had disappeared as though it were a ghost.


    The streets were dimly lit by flickering lamps, their yellow light barely cutting through the haze. As they drove slowly, scanning for signs of movement, Dante’s peripheral vision caught a flicker of white. Turning his head, he spotted a girl walking barefoot along the cold pavement. Her white nightdress seemed to glow faintly in the moonlight, and her jet-black hair hung loose, swaying gently with her slow, deliberate steps. Something about her was wrong—off in a way he couldn’t immediately place.


    “Dad, look,” Dante said, his voice low but urgent. He nodded toward the girl.


    Victor slowed the car, his sharp eyes narrowing as he studied her. “What’s she doing out here alone?” he muttered, more to himself than to Dante.


    They parked the car a short distance away and stepped out, their boots crunching softly against the gravel. Moving with practiced silence, they followed her, keeping to the shadows. The girl’s movements were strange—her steps deliberate but uncoordinated, her arms hanging limply at her sides. It didn’t take long for Victor to draw a conclusion.


    “She’s sleepwalking,” he said after a moment, his voice cautious but measured. Her vacant gaze and unseeing eyes confirmed it.


    Dante frowned. “Should we do something? What if she gets hurt?”


    Victor shook his head. “Waking a sleepwalker can be dangerous—for her and for us. Let’s just keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t get into trouble.”


    As they followed, Victor’s sharp gaze caught a troubling detail. He motioned for Dante to look. “See her wrists? Rope marks. Fresh ones.”


    Dante’s stomach turned. “What does that mean? Was she tied up?”


    Victor’s jaw tightened, and his eyes darkened. “It means she might be running from something. Or someone.”


    The girl’s path led them away from the main streets and toward the edge of the forest. As they followed, the eerie silence grew heavier, punctuated only by the occasional rustling of leaves. The further she walked, the more unease settled over them. The forest was a dangerous place—awake or not—on a full moon night.


    “She’s heading into the woods,” Dante said, his voice tight with tension.


    “I see that,” Victor replied grimly. He drew his weapon, a custom-forged blade that gleamed in the moonlight. “Stay close. Be ready for anything.”


    The girl’s bare feet moved silently over the forest floor, and the air grew colder with every step. The faint, acrid smell of smoke lingered in the air, a ghostly reminder of past tragedies. It wasn’t long before she stumbled, her foot catching on a hidden root. She fell forward, landing hard in front of an abandoned structure. The building was little more than a charred skeleton, its timbers blackened by fire and overgrown with vines. The sight of it sent a shiver down Dante’s spine.


    The girl woke with a gasp, sitting up abruptly. Her wide, disoriented eyes darted around the clearing, taking in her surroundings. Her breathing was ragged, her face pale.


    “You were sleepwalking,” Victor said, his tone firm but calm as he stepped toward her.


    The girl turned toward him, clutching her chest in shock. “Again?” she exclaimed, her voice trembling.


    Dante frowned. “Again? You’ve done this before?”


    She sighed, rubbing her temples. “Yes. Why do you think I have these?” She held up her wrists, revealing the faint, fresh marks. “I tie myself up every night so I don’t wander. I have a seven-month-old baby at home. I can’t risk leaving him alone.”


    Dante’s brow furrowed. “Then why didn’t you tie your hands tonight?”


    Her eyes darted around the clearing, lingering on the charred remains of the structure. “I did,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “At least I thought I did. I don’t remember untying them.” She hesitated. “Where am I? What is this place?”


    Victor’s expression grew grim. “This is Ophelia Hall. It burned down years ago—exactly 182 years ago. No one comes here anymore.”


    Her face paled further. “Ophelia Hall?” she echoed. “I’ve heard of it but never thought I’d see it. Or...” She chuckled nervously. “Maybe not like this. I don’t remember coming here. The last thing I remember is going to bed. Did... did I hurt anyone?”


    Dante crouched down, his voice steady and reassuring. “No, you didn’t hurt anyone. But you’re lucky we found you. This forest isn’t safe, especially tonight.”


    Victor’s gaze swept over the area, his eyes scanning the shadows. “And neither is this place. There’s a reason no one’s rebuilt here. The fire that destroyed Ophelia Hall didn’t just take the building. It took half the town with it.”


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    The girl shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. “Who are you two, anyway?”


    “I’m Dante Harrow, and this is my father, Victor Harrow,” Dante said.


    Her eyes widened in recognition. “Harrow? So you know Sophia?”


    Both men stiffened. Victor’s expression hardened, and his hand instinctively gripped the hilt of his blade. “How do you know my daughter?” he demanded.


    The girl raised her hands defensively. “You probably don’t know me. My name is Amaya Gemini Moon. I own Gemini’s Bloom. Sophia came to my shop a couple of weeks ago asking for a bouquet for her mother’s grave. We hit it off and… well, she’s been hanging out with me since then. She’s the one who told me about Ophelia Hall.”


    Victor’s gaze didn’t soften, but Dante put a hand on his father’s shoulder. “Let’s save the interrogation for later. We need to get out of here before something finds us.”


    Before Victor could respond, a low, guttural growl rumbled from the shadows. The air seemed to thicken, and the temperature dropped further. The girl froze, her wide eyes darting to Dante and Victor for reassurance. From the darkness, a pair of glowing eyes emerged, followed by the faint sound of heavy breathing.


    “Run,” Victor ordered sharply, drawing his blade. “Get back to the car. Now!”


    Amaya hesitated, but Dante grabbed her arm and pulled her into motion. “Go! Don’t look back!” he shouted.


    As they sprinted through the woods, the growling grew louder. Dante turned his head just in time to see a hulking, shadowy figure break into a run, its shape barely discernible in the moonlight. Victor stayed behind, his blade gleaming as he prepared to face the creature.


    “Dad!” Dante shouted, but Victor waved him off.


    “Keep her safe! I’ll handle this!” Victor’s voice was firm, unyielding.


    Reluctantly, Dante obeyed, dragging Amaya with him. The sounds of combat echoed behind them—metal clashing, snarls, and Victor’s grunts of effort. When they finally reached the car, Dante shoved Amaya inside and turned back, his heart pounding.


    “Stay here,” he commanded. “Lock the doors.”


    “But...” she started, her voice trembling.


    “Just do it!” he snapped before rushing back into the forest.


    He found Victor standing over the lifeless body of the creature, his blade slick with dark blood. Victor’s breathing was labored, but his expression remained steely.


    “It’s done,” Victor said, his voice weary. “Let’s get out of here.”


    Together, they returned to the car. Amaya sat huddled in the back seat, tears streaming down her face.


    Victor turned to her, his expression softening slightly. “You’re safe now. But you need to be more careful.”


    The drive back to Blackwater Hallow Town was steeped in heavy silence. The weight of what had transpired in the forest clung to the air, oppressive and unshakable. Amaya sat curled in the back seat, her trembling hands clutching the edge of her nightdress. Victor’s knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel, his gaze fixed on the road ahead. Dante, seated beside him, kept glancing back at Amaya, his brow furrowed in concern.


    “What was that thing?” Amaya finally asked, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Victor didn’t answer immediately. The question hung in the air, unanswered, until Dante broke the silence. “It was a wraithbeast,” he said, his voice steady but grim. “A predator that feeds on fear. It’s rare to see one this close to town.”


    “Rare, but not impossible,” Victor added, his tone clipped. “Especially on a full moon. If there is one, then maybe there are others too in Blackwater Hollow.”


    Amaya shivered and looked out the window, the town’s faint lights coming into view through the trees. “Why would it come after me?”


    Dante hesitated. “It’s hard to say. Wraithbeasts are drawn to places of trauma, places with lingering pain or strong emotions. If you’ve been sleepwalking, you might have unknowingly led it to you.”


    Victor shot his son a sharp glance. “Or,” he interjected, “it might have been drawn to the hall.”


    Amaya turned her wide eyes to Victor. “Ophelia Hall?”


    Victor gave a curt nod. “The place is cursed. It’s a magnet for the unnatural. Whatever led you there tonight wasn’t just coincidence.”


    The car fell silent again as the trio processed his words. As they pulled up to Amaya’s shop, Victor killed the engine and turned to face her. “Do you have anyone who can stay with you tonight?”


    Amaya shook her head, her voice cracking. “It’s just me and my baby.”


    Victor frowned. “We’ll stay until morning. You shouldn’t be alone after what happened.”


    Dante nodded in agreement. “I’ll keep watch outside. Dad can stay inside with you.”


    Amaya’s relief was palpable. “Thank you,” she whispered, tears welling up in her eyes.


    Victor and Dante followed her into the house, from the backdoor. She rented the two-story building. The ground floor is her shop while the area above is the apartment. It was small but cozy, filled with the faint scent of lavender. A crib stood in the corner of the living room, where a baby boy slept soundly. Amaya knelt by the crib, brushing a strand of dark hair from the Ignis’s forehead before standing to face Victor.


    “You think this has something to do with Ophelia Hall, don’t you?” she asked, her tone more determined now.


    Victor’s jaw tightened. “I’ve seen things like this before. The hall is more than just a burned-down building. It’s a scar on this town—a wound that hasn’t healed.”


    Dante, who had been inspecting the room for vulnerabilities, turned to them. “If the wraithbeast was drawn to the hall, it might not be the only thing lurking around. We need to figure out what connection you have to that place.”


    Amaya hesitated, her hands clenching into fists. “I don’t have any connection. At least, not that I know of. I’ve only lived here for a couple of weeks. Sophia mentioned the hall to me, but it’s not like I’ve been obsessed with it or anything.”


    Victor’s gaze sharpened. “What exactly did Sophia tell you about the hall?”


    Amaya’s brow furrowed as she tried to recall. “She said it was the site of a tragedy—a fire that killed dozens of people. She also mentioned something about it being tied to old rituals, but she didn’t go into detail. I thought it was just local folklore.”


    Victor exchanged a look with Dante. “It’s not just folklore,” he said. “The fire wasn’t an accident. It was the result of a summoning ritual gone wrong.”


    Amaya’s eyes widened. “A ritual? Summoning what?”


    Victor’s face was grim. “No one knows for sure. The accounts are conflicting, but whatever was summoned didn’t leave. It’s tied to the land now, drawing in creatures like the wraithbeast and causing unnatural events.”


    The room seemed to grow colder as his words sank in. Amaya hugged herself, her gaze drifting to her sleeping son. “What do we do now?”


    Dante stepped forward, his tone resolute. “We’ll protect you. But we also need to figure out why you were drawn there tonight. If there’s something connecting you to Ophelia Hall, we need to know what it is.”


    Victor nodded. “You’ll stay inside tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll investigate the hall further. If the wraithbeast was only the beginning, we’ll need to be ready for whatever comes next.”


    Amaya’s expression hardened with determination. “I want to help. If this is somehow tied to me, I need to know. I need to keep my son safe.”


    Victor gave her a rare nod of approval. “Good. We’ll need your cooperation. For now, get some rest. You’ll need your strength.”


    As Amaya settled into a chair near the crib, Victor took up a position by the window, his blade resting on the sill. Outside, Dante paced the perimeter, his senses attuned to the forest’s every sound. The night stretched on, tense and watchful, as the shadow of Ophelia Hall loomed over them all.


    In the distance, the faint glimmer of yellow eyes watching them from the shadows, unblinking and calculating.