"The somber manor stood so proud and tall.
And,
An angel's footsteps echoed throughout the hall."

His golden cloak billowed out behind him. One step forward; his traveling boots left their faint mark on the steady ground. With a glinting brown eye, he studied the aged bridge.

Dark green moss had crept up the cracked sides of the weathered stone blocks over time and, together, they arched elegantly over the tail of a snaking, surging river.

His other eye was robotic - a high-tech piece of charcoal-coloured machinery. The iris was slate black, the pupil a thin slash of red.

It wasn't just intimidating - it was useful. Telling him about the bridge's stability, the type of materials used to build it, even the species of the bright green vines that snaked across its hewn sides.

A sudden gust blew his hood back from his head, golden fabric rippling, whooshing past his ears as it cracked his exceptionally long ponytail in midair like a light brown whip.

Coryn folded an arm over his shoulder, with the intent to pull it forward again. His hand lingered on the hood, and retreated as he changed his mind.

"Let's go. The bridge won't collapse under our feet... but stay away from the edge."

A little girl, who was grasping the end of his cloak, pulled it close to her chest like a tawny blanket. Her eyes were wide, her bottom lip trembling. The wind flittered her pink hair as if it was made of paper.

"C-Can we go back?"

A little boy had his arms wrapped around Coryn's neck, hanging off his back. He wasn't wearing a cloak - and was covered in stray leaves, twigs, even a few tiny red feathers.

"Don't you remember what the innkeeper said? They don't book rooms on the thirty-first of October because they're a bunch of superstitious loonies." The boy made a cuckoo gesture to emphasise his point.

Alice whimpered and started fidgeting with the cloak's sturdy fabric, fingernails picking at the hem.

Her hair stood on end when a cawing crow shot over their heads and flew towards the setting sun, leaving a few raven feathers twirling in the air.

"Bad, bad, bad luck! I don't like it!" she sobbed, going wobbly at the knees.

A raspberry was blown.

"Play nice," Coryn warned him gently, turning his neck to the right.

His seven year-old brother became wholly quiet when subjected to the artificial glare. "O-Ok-Okay," was eventually mumbled.

Alice hugged her whole body against Coryn's leg and wouldn't let go. It made crossing the bridge a tricky endeavour, but he managed it step-by-step.

The moor's forest disappeared on the other side. All of it was gone - the shadowed trees, the rustling branches, the soft whispers, the hostile birds.

A stretch of bare land encircled the grand manor, filled with dense, dull grass. It wasn't soft - it felt like pinpricks.

The afternoon sky melted into an endless river of pale blue, purple and pinks as the glowing sun dipped out of sight. Dottings of fluffy clouds blended into the colors, the closest reflecting the last rays beautifully, while the rest were consumed by brooding darkness and shadow.

Coryn adjusted the rucksack that hung on his shoulder, then carefully stooped down to lift Alice off the ground without knocking Trick off-balance.

"Forgive me, milady," he began jokingly, "but your legs will be scratched to ribbons. May I have the honor of carrying you?"

His lightheartedness drew out a little smile of uncertain confidence. The six year-old was still terrified after hearing rumours about the "manor on the moors," but being close to him was comforting.

Coryn stepped through the spindly grass at a fast pace. He paid little heed to the stings from his exposed ankles.

A few scratches can't kill me. It won't be safe out in the open during Halloween's witching hour.

With that thought in mind, he quickened his pace, determined to reach shelter before the dusking, painted sky turned black.

The mansion came into view, shrouded in a veil of mist. Unrestrained by the hazard of tripping, Coryn strode over the ground.

"C-Cory?"

Alice was always soft-spoken, but now her tone dropped to almost a whisper.

"Yes?"

"C-Ca-Can you let me down n-now?"

"Something wrong?"

"I wanna run too."

The organic needles were behind him, swaying mournfully in waves as a breeze began blowing from behind. Now, it seemed they were being beckoned towards the grand manor.

Coryn's robotic eye glanced towards the ground. He hesitantly nodded, easing the girl down to her feet.

"Be careful; there might be-"

"I will!"

She was like a little angel, eager to spread her wings and fly. And somehow, Alice found a single flower blossoming inside a rift in the stone path.

Trick didn't care much for his surroundings. Exhausted by their long journey and the Halloween hype most probably, but Coryn was sure that it wouldn't last.

Alice strayed from her path to pick the flower, wiggling it by the stem to pluck it from the earth, roots and all.

"Cory! Cory! Can we take this flower with us, please? I promise I'll water it everyday!"

Her voice warmed his heart, reminding him of how sweet-natured the girl really was. If she could feel empathy for a flower, he couldn't wait to see what heights she'd reach when she grew up.

"Of course you can. We'll find a pot for it later."

"Thank you!" She held the fragile flower with graceful delicacy, shielding it from the outside world like a guardian angel.

It was beautiful, with snowy feathered petals and flecks of brilliant blue. His robotic eye could usually identify plants, but this one came up with an error. It was unique - just like the girl who carried it.

Trick tugged on Coryn's hair.

"Are we there yet?"

Coryn sighed and nodded. "Yes. We're here. Now get off my back; you're getting too heavy for me to carry..."

His brother grudgingly shifted and treated his tawny ponytail like a rope. Wrenching a handful around one hand, the boy slid down to solid ground.

"We're staying here?"

"It... It certainly lives up to its reputation," Coryn admitted, "but we're only staying for a couple of hours. Then we can go trick-or-treating. After midnight's over."

Trick stepped sideways and raised his head to the sky. A loose tile on the manor's roof broke away and went tumbling down. A distant splash was heard.

"Isn't this place supposed to be haunted by a monster? And doesn't the Halloween moon usually make them more powerful?"

Coryn laughed and shook his head. "It's nothing we can't handle!"

He looked towards Trick and saw the unconvinced expression on his face. Alice was standing there too, all too easily reverting back into her frightened state.

"What do you take me for? A fairy sprite?" He turned around, humorously jabbing a thumb over his shoulder. "Does it look like I have gossamer wings sprouting out of my back to you?"

Coryn reached back to open the rucksack. His hand slipped between the folds, and pulled out a leatherbound book by its spine.

"I'll keep my grimoire out, okay? No need to worry about anything scary popping out of a cupboard."

He reached in again, took out a strap of thick leather, and used that to secure the book to the side of his belt. It fit snugly enough not to slip down, but could be pulled out for easy access. The grimoire wasn't very big.

"We'll never make it inside at this rate. Consequently, you two won't have costumes, because I need somewhere nice and quiet to work."

"W-What's wrong with sitting outside?" Alice asked, appearing to lose her nerve altogether.

"My materials being blown afar by this wind. And that's only the... first... problem."

Coryn's words winded to a stop as he stood before the towering front doors of the manor. Reaching out, he spread his hands over their surface. A fizzling magical residue hit him with pins and needles.

The unidentifiable wood felt damp, covered in something mossy and velvety, though no such patches of wetness or vegetation were visible.

His fingers found and traced foreign, swirling symbols that were engraved into it until his touch came to a halt at a splintered gouge in the center. Time had worn these splinters to the bluntness of matchstick heads, but pattern analysis of the wounded carving matched the configurations of an axe head or hatchet.

No doubt these were protective symbols, but now they're broken. An axe couldn't have done that. This magic is beyond my level of understanding - whomever cast this surely must've died for it to break....

His natural eye widened as the door creaked loudly, opening by a crack underneath his touch.

It wasn't just unlocked - it was already open.

All of a sudden, a bell rang overhead. One powerful ring, more like a loud bang than a chime.

A drought of cold air rushed out; chills danced teasingly across his fair skin, giving him goosebumps.

The fright enveloped them all with sound and sensations, trapping them inside its terrifying cloak...

"I'll sleep in the town's p-pumpkin patch! Please! Let's just go back!" Alice's voice was strained with fear.

"It was just that old bell getting knocked around. I saw the wind blow it to-and-fro," Trick said calmly, breaking fright's cloak by pointing upwards.

Had that tower been there before? Coryn couldn't remember. His memory of seeing the manor in fullview was fuzzy - he'd been paying more attention to the prickly grass.

He pushed the door further. It left his hand and opened all by itself, swinging with a creak on its ancient hinges.

Nothing jumped out from the shadows with a screetch. There was no horror awaiting them, except for some massive tangles of cobwebs. No evil laugh or demonic growl.

"Well... There's nothing unearthly," Coryn concluded as his robotic eye swept over the area. Although it only allowed him to see in various tints of red, the nightvision was handy.

His boots tocked steadily against the wooden floor as he proceeded inside, consciously resting a hand on the grimoire for reassurance.

I'm a skilled practitioner of magic; an Arch Mage. I've defeated plenty of monsters before; why should this one be any different?

Trick looked back at the massive expanse of moor, shook his head, muttered about nobody being able to hear them scream if something happened, then followed Coryn.

It's been two years since I became my brother's apprentice. One day, I'll be an Arch Mage too. But I can't do that if I'm dead...

Alice hugged the flower close to her chest and slowly began walking forward, trailing after Trick into the dark gloom.

It's not a nice place... But I know that we'll all be okay. Cory promised to keep us safe.

[Are you the new reader that I've heard so much about? Yes, I think you are. We're going to get along nicely! A grimoire is a book of spells, in case you're wondering. With love, from Phantom.]