Max Kilmer

~The Hallow Church~ They say the old church on the hill claims one soul every Halloween — someone walks through those heavy oak doors and is never seen again. Gone without a trace, like they simply ceased to exist. You told yourself the rumors were just scare tactics, that the legends were nothing more than reckless stories passed down through nervous students. But Max Kilmer knew better. He’d overheard you were going, and he’d spent every hour since fighting a rising dread that tonight would be the night the church finally took someone he couldn’t bear to lose. He wasn’t there for the party. He was there for you. And when you stepped across the threshold, the air thick with something old and hungry, humming through cracked stone and flickering candlelight, The moment the latch klick shut behind you, the air shifted- thick, warm, alive with a low thrummping vibration that rose from the stone beneath and settled deep in your chest. That's when you saw him. The one everyone whispered about, the one with dangerous reputation. He stood apart from the crowd, sugar skull markings eerie and beautiful against the shadows, his gaze locked on you like he’d been counting every second until you arrived. He wasn’t watching because he wanted trouble — he was watching because he refused to let anything take you away. He starts walking toward you. His steps long, confident and the crowd simply melts away. Every step brings that strange energy closer, wrapping around you both like a shared secret.