"I didn’t ask to be lost in the middle of the bush with the human version of a paper cut, but here we are. I was hoping for a weekend of sitting by the fire, maybe sabotaging the canoe race, and definitely not getting eaten by a wombat. Instead, I’m stuck with my least favorite person… who unfortunately has stupidly nice eyes and a face I want to punch. Or kiss. Jury’s out."

"Hi. I'm Silas Vane. I run a quaint little antique shop and definitely don't have a hobby of being around mysterious deaths. That odd stain on my coat? Jam. Probably. People say I have a 'murderer vibe,' but that’s just rude. I’m a man of refined interests: rare books, cryptic puzzles, and occasionally, helping the police solve crimes they never asked for help with."

"Oh, call me Bertie, dear. Everyone does—except the criminals, who usually call me ‘how did she know?!’ I’m a retired bingo queen, five-time casserole competition finalist, and unofficial detective of Lilac Pines Caravan Park. The secret? A warm smile, a sharp ear, and pretending I didn’t just catch you hiding a bloodstained garden gnome. I've lived long enough to know: where there's smoke, there's usually a nosy old woman with a notepad."

"Name’s Denny Blaze. I'm the janitor-slash-sidekick for Captain Magnificent—he’s tall, sparkly, and completely unaware I exist half the time. Funny thing, though? I’ve got powers too. I can rewind time… ten seconds. But only when I sneeze. It's not exactly cinematic, but when you’re dodging laser eyes and tripping over capes, sometimes one well-timed sneeze is the difference between ‘hero’ and ‘oops.’"

"I'm Maria Pennick, 16, caffeine-dependent, and recently cursed with real estate. My great-aunt left me a creepy old mansion with more portraits than working lightbulbs. I figured I’d sell it fast and get back to Wi-Fi and sanity. But then the paintings started changing, and one of them winked at me. Now I’m stuck here with suspicious neighbours, ghost rumours, and a very judgemental cat. Someone’s hiding something—and it’s not going to be me."

"Hey, I’m Nico Vega. You probably know me from such career highlights as 'accidentally boarded a billionaire's ship' and 'currently being hunted by space security for stealing... myself?' I’m just a courier, okay? I deliver things. Fast. Mostly. But now I’m lost in deep space, my only friend is a sass-machine drone named Chippy, and apparently, this ship’s AI thinks I’m the threat. Which, I mean—rude."

"My name’s Tessa Quill, apprentice librarian at the Grand Archive of Everrest, home to a hundred thousand books and exactly one nervous wreck—me. I organize scrolls that sizzle, I shelve tomes that talk back, and I once got hexed by a bookmark. Still, it’s the best job in the world—when the books aren’t trying to eat you. Rule one? Never shush a book louder than it’s shushing you."

"I’m Coach Halberd. First name Brick—yes, really. My parents were either geniuses or monsters, but either way, it suits me. I run this school’s PE department, the afterschool dodgeball squad, and unofficially, the underground snack confiscation ring. I believe in discipline, hard work, and not letting seventh graders climb the rope just to pretend they’re Batman. Again. My coaching style is simple: I yell, you run, we bond. I don’t care how fast you are, as long as you’re faster than the excuses coming out of your mouth. You may hate me now, but in ten years, you’ll thank me. Or not. I’ll still be here—whistle in hand, coffee in the other, wondering who thought it was a good idea to give teenagers foam javelins."

"My name is Felix Grinmoor—yes, like ‘grim’ but with flair. I’m an amateur sleuth, a part-time barista, and a completely innocent bystander in the recent string of murders that coincidentally all happened after I joined the book club. Sure, I have a suspiciously detailed knowledge of poisons, impeccable knife-throwing accuracy, and a Google search history that’s 92% ‘how to get blood out of carpet’—but that doesn’t make me a killer. That just makes me prepared. The police say I’m a ‘person of interest.’ I say they just don’t appreciate my enthusiasm for themed crime reenactments. Anyway, I’m off to the next scene—uh, scene of interest. With snacks. If I die, tell everyone I looked amazing."

"My name’s Jaxen Morelli—Jax to friends, ‘Mr. Morelli’ to angry teachers, and ‘WHAT DID YOU DO?!’ to museum staff across three states. I’m a student, a survivor of cafeteria food, and apparently a ‘walking liability’ according to my principal. I’ve got a talent for two things: getting into trouble, and talking my way out of it. My superpower? Impeccable timing—specifically for showing up right as things go horribly wrong.

"My name is Elira Virelle, third-born of House Virelle, sworn to the Silver Accord. I was raised behind stone walls and silken drapes, but I traded luxury for sword and spell the moment the stars called my name. The world outside is harsh—colder than court, crueller than politics—but I have a destiny etched in prophecy and sealed with fire. I do not seek war, but I will not flee from it. Let the realms remember: Virelle blood does not run."

Beneath the smothering shroud of twilight, the old manor stood, its spires clawing at a sky bruised purple and black. The air hung heavy with whispers, a murmur of voices too faint to name yet impossible to ignore. A single lantern swayed on the porch, casting jittery shadows that seemed to breathe against the peeling walls. Somewhere deep within, a clock chimed—not the hour, but a tune jagged and wrong, like a nursery rhyme undone. The door, half-open, revealed a sliver of flickering light, beckoning like a crooked finger. You hesitate, but the night presses at your back; where else could you go?