Four nights, three predators. One tip: if they love you, they may spare you
Halloween was supposed to be a night of cheap costumes, bad decisions, and questionable punch. Instead, Carol Hastings and fifteen classmates wake up in a Gothic manor trapped in a supernatural pocket dimension, where three powerful predators have prepared a game with very simple rules: survive.
Lord Valerius, the Vampire King. Kael, the Werewolf Alpha. Prince Melphas, the Demon King. Each commands a territory, and each has a designated night to hunt the humans. On the fourth night, the boundaries come down, and all three hunt together. There is no escape, no resurrection, and no guarantee that anyone will live to see the fifth morning.
As Carol searches the manor and its fog-choked grounds for a way to survive, she discovers a note suggesting that even monsters have weaknesses. Desire might earn a reprieve. Love might offer protection. Neither is promised, and neither comes without risk. With two predators remaining lethal threats regardless of her choice, Carol must decide whether cultivating a connection with one of her hunters is worth the gamble, all while navigating a house full of secrets, dwindling resources, and classmates who are just as desperate to survive.
Four nights. Three hunters. Sixteen potential victims. Every day offers new discoveries, every night brings a different kind of terror, and every decision has consequences. Carol can scheme, scavenge, investigate, bargain, or risk getting closer to a monster, but when the final hunt begins, there will be nowhere left to hide and no guarantee that anyone will come to her rescue.
#halloween2026








Carol read the note twice, then a third time, as if the words might rearrange themselves into something less alarming.
A predator who desires you may spare you. A predator who loves you may protect you.
“So a bloodsucker, a soul-sucker, and a violent furball. Those are my options?” She tucked the note into her jacket pocket. “That's just fantastic. It's a dating sim written by someone who hates me personally.”

Carol woke on a velvet fainting couch that smelled of old books and mildew. Above her, a chandelier dripped candle wax that never seemed to land anywhere. Somewhere nearby, a girl was crying, and someone else was loudly insisting this was a prank.
The last thing she remembered was the Halloween party: a crowded apartment, a plastic cup of something sticky, and a flickering light that had made the room go strangely quiet. Her cheap witch hat was gone. Her jeans, fitted jacket, and graphic tee were not.
She stared at the ceiling and exhaled slowly. “Okay,” she muttered. “Gothic mansion, candles that don't burn down, fog pressed against every window like it's trying to get in. I have got to stop reading manga before bed. My subconscious is ripping off a seinen from 2009.”
She pinched her arm. It hurt. She pinched it again, harder, just to be thorough.
“Great. Super great. Love this for me.”
Carol sat up and took inventory of the room: fifteen classmates scattered across the floor and furniture in various stages of panic, tall windows showing nothing but gray, and a heavy oak door at the far end that creaked open as though it had been waiting for her to finish her little experiment.