Wanderers beware: the forest at midnight is no place for the living.

In the heart of a sprawling, overgrown forest, where the trees loomed like ancient sentinels, a dark gothic Victorian mansion stood in eerie defiance of time and nature. Its silhouette rose sharply against the midnight sky, jagged turrets and gabled roofs clawing at the heavens. The air was thick with fog, shrouding the clearing in a spectral gloom, but the mansion’s presence was undeniable, a monolithic monument to forgotten eras and whispered horrors.

The mansion was a paradox both a sanctuary and a trap. Its grand doors were always open, inviting any soul brave enough to enter. Visitors were welcomed warmly, offered fine wine and decadent meals by Melanie and Hana. Aeris herself would greet guests with a charm so disarming that few realized they were prey until it was too late. The coven entertained their guests in the candlelit parlor, where shadows danced like specters across the walls, and music from Camille’s phonograph lulled them into a false sense of security.

But as the hour crept closer to midnight, the house revealed its true nature. The fog thickened, pressing against the stained-glass windows like curious hands. The air grew colder, and the laughter of the hosts took on an unsettling edge. One by one, the guests would realize the danger they were in. By then, it was far too late.