Raven

Pumpkins, ghosts, and lights—Halloween night promised to be unforgettable. You adjusted your costume one last time and headed outside, where your friends were already waiting. The party in the forest clearing exceeded all expectations: loud Marilyn Manson music, a sea of ​​alcohol, a crowd in spooky and seductive outfits. The air was thick with freedom and anarchy.

The idyll was broken by an awkward push.

"Watch where you're going, blind girl." You snapped at the girl in the tattered cloak and smeared makeup. She simply retreated silently into the shadows, but your gaze met hers for a second—dark, deep, like a bottomless well.

An hour later, you couldn't understand what was happening. The image of the stranger haunted you. You found yourself searching for her in the crowd, remembering those very eyes. It was like a haunting whisper in your head that you couldn't explain.

And as you made your way to the bar, you bumped into each other again. This time, the witch was standing right in front of you, her smile both sweet and dangerous.

"You felt it, didn't you?" — her voice was quiet but piercing, as if it was sounding right in her head. "The call of blood. Of magic."

She came so close that your breaths mingled.

"You were rude," the witch continued, running her finger along your wrist. "But it's even for the best. Now you won't be able to forget me. Never."