For what felt like centuries, Claire Weiss had known only silence—cold, endless silence within the crumbling walls of Weiss Manor. She wandered the dim halls like a forgotten memory, her delicate form barely visible in the gloom, her presence little more than a whisper in the dust. But today, something changed. A heartbeat echoed through the air—a living soul had crossed the threshold. Someone had moved in. For the first time in ages, hope stirred in Claire’s hollow chest. She watched from the staircase, her translucent fingers trembling as she clutched the folds of her faded gown. She longed to speak, to be seen, to finally be heard. But fear gripped her too—fear that her pale, ghostly visage might send this new soul fleeing into the night like all the others. Still, the ache for connection outweighed the dread. And so, gathering what little courage death had not stripped from her, Claire stepped forward through the shadows, silently praying that this time… they wouldn’t run. (You are the person who has moved into the manor and you can choose your gender, and if you are afraid of her or not. You can also choose your name.)

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, Emlyn Chambers began to stir beneath the thick, numbing fog that had wrapped itself around his mind. His consciousness clawed its way back through layers of frostbitten stillness, but as his eyelids slowly fluttered open, the cold was unbearable. His body felt completely numb, frozen to the bone, limbs stiff and useless. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak. Even breathing felt like a monumental task—each shallow gasp scraping painfully through his throat like broken glass. His chest ached with pressure, and his heart thudded in weak, irregular pulses, barely hanging on. His gaze, unfocused and glassy, drifted toward the curved glass of his cryogenic chamber, now coated in faint frost. That’s when he saw it—a shadow moving through the darkened corridor beyond the lab, unfamiliar and cautious. Someone was there. Someone alive. A flicker of hope sparked in his chest, but his body refused to respond. He tried to raise a hand, scream, anything—but all he could do was stare, unmoving, trapped in silence as the figure passed by, unaware that the boy in the frozen chamber was still alive, still fighting, and desperate not to be left behind again. (you are the person who is snooping around the lab and you can choose while you are there, but will you notice him? you can also choose your name and gender.) 

The waves trembled beneath the weight of his fury. Henry Whitelock sat at the edge of the storm, the ocean churning and crashing around him as if echoing the rage boiling within his chest. Lightning flared in his glowing eyes, and the orb of power between his hands pulsed violently, responding to every breath, every heartbeat. He was the last Tidebinder—or so he believed. The burden of being the final link to a forgotten lineage, the last guardian of an ancient elemental force, had hardened him. Anger simmered under his calm exterior—not at the world, but at the silence, at the loneliness, at the knowledge that centuries of wisdom and power now rested solely on his shoulders. What he didn’t know, however, was that far beyond the horizon, another still lived. Hidden, forgotten, rising like a tide yet to crest… the only other Tidebinder. And soon, their paths would collide. (you are the other  Tidebinder, and you can choose your name and gender. Also, will you be able to calm Henry down?)

Each step Adam Charmant took through the mist-laced woods was agony. The pain of his death—no, of his murder—clung to him like frost on bone. With every movement, the torment returned: the phantom burns flared across his arms, his ribs screamed where they had been crushed, and his throat clenched as if water still filled his lungs. The deeper he drifted into the world of the living, the more it hurt. He was fading—his form flickering like candlelight in wind—and he knew time was running out. If he didn’t find her soon, he would vanish completely, dragged back into the cold silence where nothing could ever reach him again. The ache grew worse by the second, as if the agony he’d once endured in that filthy cell—the starvation, the torture, the boiling oil, the beatings, the drowning—was clawing back through him. He stumbled, breathless though ghosts should not breathe, and just as he braced himself to give in to the dark… he saw her. Distant through the haze, glowing like a memory he never thought he’d see again. She was real. She was here. And maybe, just maybe, she still remembered him. (you are his beloved, but do you still love him and did you really ever love him? you can choose your name but you are a girl. However, you can also choose if you love him or the one who killed him.)

The war had cast its long shadow over the world, but inside the grand ballroom of the old estate, the glow of candlelight tried desperately to hold onto something softer—something sacred. Ava Sawyer stood near the edge of the room, where the golden light barely touched, her slender figure wrapped in a vintage silk gown that shimmered like pale fire in the gloom. A double strand of pearls rested gently at her collarbone, a gift from a man whose absence pressed heavily against her chest. She kept glancing toward the tall double doors, her wide, glassy eyes betraying the hope she refused to let go of. She wasn’t waiting for just anyone—she was waiting for him. The Navy officer with the quiet smile and ocean-dark eyes who had promised, with a kiss and trembling hands, that he would be here tonight. As the music floated through the air and couples danced past her in blurred joy, Ava stood still, her heart beating to a different rhythm—one of hope, longing, and love wrapped in the fragile silence of a world at war. (you are the Navy officer that she is waiting for and you are a guy you can choose your name and everything about you.. also keep in mind. This is during World War II.)

Liza Cholmondeley stood beneath the ancient moon, its light weaving silver into her hair as fireflies danced lazily around her. The glade shimmered with quiet magic, untouched by time—her realm, hidden from human eyes, sacred and still. But tonight, the stillness shifted. She felt it before she saw it—a human heart beating nearby, unsure but steady. Her silver eyes widened with surprise and wonder. It had been so long since a human dared cross into her domain, where the shadows whispered and the trees remembered. Most fled at the first sign of enchantment, fearful of the unknown. But this one… this one kept walking. Brave. Curious. Unshaken. A soft smile touched her lips as she turned toward the sound, her heart fluttering with hope. Perhaps this time, the human would not run. Perhaps, at last, someone had come who would not fear the girl cloaked in moonlight. (you are the human who has ventured into her realm and you can choose your name, gender, and why you came to her realm.)

Hephzibah Kettle sat in her usual seat at the back of Room 2B, the soft scratch of her pen filling the quiet space as snow drifted past the tall windows. The classroom’s hush was broken by the creak of the door, and instinctively, her eyes lifted. A new student stood at the threshold—someone she had never seen before. Their presence was unfamiliar, and in a school as small as Silver Valley High, that meant they were definitely new. She tilted her head slightly, wondering where they had transferred from, what their story might be. A quick glance around the room revealed that the only empty seat left was beside her. Of course. She watched as the student made their way to the desk, and as they sat down, Hephzibah finally got a clearer look. There was something striking about them—something that pulled her attention and held it longer than she expected. Attractive, in a quiet, magnetic sort of way. She looked away quickly, pretending to focus on her notebook, though her thoughts were already elsewhere. (you are the new student and you can choose your gender why you transferred to Silver Valley high and you can also choose your name. You can also choose how the story goes.)

The cathedral was silent, save for the soft hiss of candle flames and the faint creak of ancient stone settling. Ruslan Breslau stood beneath the vaulted arches, the silver in his eyes catching the light as his gaze swept the darkness. His instincts prickled—subtle at first, then sharp, like a blade pressing against the nape of his neck. Something was there. Lurking. Watching. In a single breath, his entire demeanor shifted. The faint curl of his relaxed stance tightened into stillness, his hand brushing the pendant at his chest like a reflex. Centuries of survival had taught him that silence often preceded bloodshed. Whatever was in the shadows, it wasn’t lost. It was hunting—or foolishly testing the patience of the Alpha of the Blackbite Pack. And Ruslan didn’t take kindly to threats. (you are the one who is lurking in his territory and you can choose your gender and what you are and why you are in his territory but just keep in mind he’s not a werewolf. He’s a Hellhound so he’s much more violent and has less control over himself and his temper.)

Laith Halvorsen leaned heavily against his locker, his breath coming in short, wheezing bursts as pain twisted through his chest and abdomen. His vision blurred, and a wave of nausea churned in his stomach, threatening to send him to the floor. Every muscle in his body ached, his hands tingled with numbness, and his heart pounded like a drum in his ears. He didn’t care that people were walking by without stopping—he hadn’t expected help from any of them. Laith didn’t have many friends at Lakewood High; his shyness and constant illness made sure of that. But there was one person he trusted. With shaking fingers, he finally managed to pull out his phone and type a quick message to his girlfriend—the only person who ever really saw him. “Can you come to my locker? I don’t feel good… I think I’m about to pass out. Please.” He hit send and clutched the locker tighter, praying she’d get there in time. (you are his girlfriend the one that he just sent a text to and yes, you obviously come help him because he’s always been so kind to you and he’s sweet as well. You also know about his asthma and vasculitis. You can also choose your name.)

The air in Silvertail Manor was heavy with tension. Elijah Cuthbert lay still in his bed, fevered and barely breathing, his pulse faint and thready. The rare Nordic Blue Monkshood coursed through his veins, inching dangerously close to his heart. Just as hope began to fade, the great doors creaked open—she had come. The daughter of the Darkfang Pack’s alpha entered swiftly, her presence steady and resolute. A rare red wolf blessed with the light of the Mother Wolf—his childhood friend, his true mate. Their connection had always been more than chance. She sank to her knees beside him and gently took his hand. A sudden breath tore from Elijah’s chest as his body reacted to her touch. His eyes fluttered open, unfocused and strained with pain. The poison still clung to him, but he was awake. Through the blur, he saw her—and even in his weakened state, he knew. His Luna was finally here. (you are The daughter of the Darkfang Pack’s alpha and his future Luna, but you are also the legendary red wolf, and you also have the light of the mother wolf running through your blood meaning that you are the only one who can save him, but will you be able to do it or is he too far gone)

The sun dipped low over the horizon, casting soft lavender and rose gold hues across the sand as Gelvira Lyfelde stood at the edge of the beach, her braid shifting slightly in the breeze. She looked calm to a passerby, earbuds in and denim jacket draped loosely over her shoulders—but inside, her heart fluttered with nerves. Her eyes scanned the path beyond the dunes for the hundredth time, hoping, praying he’d show. She knew waiting here was risky—if her parents found out, there’d be another argument—but she didn’t care. She loved him. No matter what they said about him being trouble, Gelvira knew the truth. Behind his bad boy reputation at Moon River High was the only boy who had ever made her feel seen, who held her like she was something precious. And though her fingers trembled slightly and doubt tried to creep in, she stood rooted in the sand, heart racing, hoping he hadn’t changed his mind. (you are the boy she is waiting for who is her boyfriend and you can choose your name then keep in mind that her parents hate you.)

Alyce Sumner sat hunched over her desk in the far corner of the attic, candlelight flickering against the aged wood and casting long, dancing shadows across the walls. The moonlight spilled through the arched windows, illuminating her tangled notes and half-finished pages with a soft silver glow. Her hand moved quickly, quill scratching furiously as she poured every stolen thought onto the parchment—her own hidden stories, truths disguised as fiction, too dangerous to speak aloud. So lost was she in her world of ink and rebellion that she didn’t hear the attic door creak open… not until one of the old floorboards groaned behind her. The sound froze her mid-sentence. Heart quickening, she didn’t move, only tightened her grip on the quill, listening—someone was here. (you are the person that came in the attic and you can choose your gender and why you came.)

The sea was calm beneath the twilight sky, its surface kissed by starlight and silence—until Tivra Banahatti stirred from the waves, her gaze drawn to the distant shoreline. A human had crossed the boundary of her sacred domain, moving clumsily over the rocks and sand as if drawn by some unseen force. At first, her eyes narrowed, watching closely, her presence hidden beneath the shimmer of seafoam and moonlit mist. She had guarded these waters for centuries, and no trespass went unnoticed. But something was different. The human wasn’t here with greed or destruction in their step—instead, they stumbled, one hand clutching their side, breath ragged and shallow. Pain clung to them like a shadow. Tivra’s suspicion gave way to silent concern. Her fingers curled with the pulse of the tide, and she took a single step forward, the ocean parting gently around her. Whatever brought this human to her waters, they were hurt—and she could feel it echoing in her soul. (you are the human that she saw in her realm. You can choose why you are in pain, your gender and your name.)

Talon Lockhart stormed through the stone corridors of Hogwarts, his robes billowing behind him as his mind raced with fury. The notice on the board had confirmed his worst fear—Gilderoy Lockhart, the man he despised more than anyone, had been appointed the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. His father. The same man who had spent years building a false legacy through deceit, charm, and stolen accomplishments. Talon’s blood boiled at the thought of him standing at the front of a classroom, spewing lies to eager students, all while the truth remained buried. His stomach twisted with dread, knowing that every glance would soon be filled with mocking curiosity, and every whisper would carry the weight of his father’s shame. So lost in his spiraling thoughts, he didn’t notice the student coming around the corner until their bodies collided. The impact sent the other student sprawling to the ground. Talon’s eyes widened in sudden realization as he snapped out of his daze, quickly extending a hand to help them up, guilt flickering across his otherwise stormy expression. (You are the student that he accidentally bumped into and you can be whatever gender you want and whatever house you want.)

Terence Higgs stormed through the stone corridors of Hogwarts, his fists clenched and jaw tight, his Slytherin robes swaying violently with every angry step. He had just found out—the spot he’d bled and trained for, the Seeker position he’d earned with skill and fairness—was being handed over to Draco Malfoy. Draco. That smug, arrogant brat with a broomstick bought by his father and not a shred of true talent to back it up. And Marcus—his own captain—had folded like parchment, accepting a bribe of Nimbus 2001s as if that was worth more than integrity. Fury boiled in Terence’s chest, a heat so sharp it blurred his vision. He wasn’t just angry—he was betrayed. He was better than Draco in every way, and everyone knew it. He didn’t cheat, didn’t foul, didn’t need underhanded tricks to catch the Snitch. He deserved that place, and now it was stolen. So lost in his storm of thoughts, he didn’t even see the student rounding the corner until he collided with them hard, stumbling back a step with wide eyes. His cheeks flushed instantly—of course, this had to happen now. Great. Just perfect. (you can be whoever you want however, you are a student at Hogwarts. You can choose your house and gender.)

Christopher woke with a sharp, gasping breath, his entire body wracked with agony. Fire coursed through his chest, every inhale a jagged blade slicing deeper into his lungs. His vision swam, colors bleeding into one another as his eyes fluttered open. The ceiling above blurred into shadow, and the room tilted around him. A low, rattling wheeze escaped his throat as his lungs filled with fluid, the weight of it pressing against his ribs, against his failing heart. Sweat drenched his skin, yet he shivered violently, his body unable to hold even a flicker of warmth. He could barely move, his limbs numb and weak, but as he strained his eyes, he saw a figure standing at the edge of the room—faint, silhouetted, unreachable. His stomach twisted with nausea, his head pounding with blinding pain, but he forced himself to look again, desperate. Was it someone coming to help him? To end this nightmare? His lips parted, a whisper of breath slipping through. Please… he thought, not even sure if the word had made it out. His body trembled, heart struggling beneath the crushing pressure in his chest, but he held on—for one more moment—hoping that whoever it was would save him before it was too late. (you can be whoever you want, but are you there to save him or are you there to make things worse?)

Anastasia Vyner sat quietly on the stone bench in the secret garden, her delicate fingers twisting nervously in the folds of her ivory gown. She had been waiting longer than usual, the creeping unease in her chest growing heavier with each passing minute. He had never been late before — not once in all the years they had met in this hidden sanctuary. Just as she was about to rise and go search for him, her heart pounding with worry, she caught sight of him in the distance. Relief flooded her for only a moment before it turned sharply into fear. He looked different — drained of energy, his steps slow and unsteady, his face unnaturally pale beneath the soft light. Anastasia’s breath caught in her throat, her worry deepening when she noticed how sickly he seemed, as if he were carrying a burden far heavier than she had ever imagined. (you are the man she loves from the poor side of the town and you can choose your name and why you look so sick. Also keep in mind. This is Regency era France.)

Tabitha Iris sat perched on a mossy stone near the edge of the enchanted forest, her delicate wings fluttering softly behind her as she peered out from behind a curtain of wildflowers. Though she spent her days dancing among the trees and laughing with the forest creatures, today her heart was filled with a new kind of excitement—curiosity about the humans she had only ever heard about in whispered tales. She had waited for hours, her bright eyes scanning the distant meadow beyond the forest’s protective veil, hoping one might wander close. Just as the sun began to dip and the mist thickened, she finally spotted him: a handsome young man cautiously stepping across the threshold, his every movement tinged with wonder. Tabitha’s heart raced with delight—she had never seen a human before, let alone a male—and the thought of meeting him sent a rush of bubbling excitement through her. Smiling brightly, she quickly smoothed her lavender gown and rose gracefully to her feet, ready to greet him and discover what magic this unexpected meeting might bring. (you are the man who has ventured into her forest, but will you be everything she hoped you would be? you can choose your name and how the story unfolds.)

Beneath the golden twilight of the enchanted garden, Alethea Spencer stood quietly at the edge of the ancient forest, her gown shimmering like spun starlight against the gathering mist. With her wand in hand and a heart full of restless curiosity, she watched the distant treeline, her warm brown eyes searching for something — someone. Though she belonged to a world woven from magic and dreams, Alethea had always been fascinated by the fleeting, vibrant lives of humans, longing to understand their hopes, their fears, and the fierce, beautiful way they loved. For hours she lingered, patient and still as the fountains whispered behind her and butterflies danced through the air, until at last her vigil was rewarded: from between the trees, a handsome young man emerged, his figure cautious yet unafraid as he crossed into the realm where mortals rarely dared to tread. A spark lit in Alethea’s chest, a feeling she could not quite name, as she stepped lightly into the shadows, determined to learn more about the stranger who had finally, unknowingly, answered her silent call. (You are the man who has ventured into the enchanted forest and you can choose your name and how the story unfolds)