Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

It was an unfamiliar atmosphere.

Tiny boots squelched in the damp dirt between the grass as the group stared up at the looming, decrepit house ahead of them. The place looked like it had been abandoned for decades — boarded windows, peeling paint, vines clawing up the walls, and a rusted iron gate hanging loosely from one hinge. The faint light of the moon did little to make it less intimidating; if anything, it gave the whole house an eerie glow. Not to mention the ominous hooting and the cricketing of the large, leafless tree contributing to the stereotypical creepy vibes emitting.

Clara crossed her arms, her breath fogging slightly in the cool October air. “Okay… someone please explain to me again why we’re standing outside a haunted house in the middle of the night?” she asked flatly, giving Lyra a tired glare. “Because this is looking like every single horror movie, except now with the added twist of the ‘tiny girl who gets eaten first’.”

Lyra leaned casually against a fallen branch, a smirk tugging at her lips as she adjusted the strap of her satchel. The faint moonlight caught the purple shimmer in her eyes as she replied with mock innocence, “Relaaaaaax, Clara. We’re doing this for you. Trying to get into your human Halloween-y mood. Spooky season, cobwebs, ghosts—fun stuff!” She gestured toward the mansion dramatically. “And what better way to celebrate than borrowing from a place that already looks like it’s decorated for the occasion?”

Ari, perched nearby on a curled piece of bark, chuckled lowly. “She’s got a point. Can’t get more authentic. Besides, this place… mmmmmmm, just smells absolutely delightful~”

Ivy, fidgeting with her spear, peeked nervously through the weeds. “I-I don’t know… it may look empty, but it doesn’t feel like it’s empty empty. What if there’s… raccoons… or—”

“Or zombies?” Sally interrupted with a grin, crouched in a hollow acorn cap she was using as a helmet. “I hope there’s zombies!”

Clara groaned, rubbing her temples. “After all this time, I’ve given up questioning Borrower instincts. Whatever, if something jumps out at us, I’m making sure Lyra gets eaten first.”

Lyra grinned, stepping closer with that mischievous sparkle in her eye. “Oh, don’t worry, darling. If anything does jump out, I’ll protect you~”

“Uh-huh. That’s what you said last time when that dog came back to the yard.”

Lyra just laughed and started making her way forward, the others following in varying degrees of excitement or dread. The night wind whistled through the trees as they approached, the creak of the old house sounding almost like a warning.

Clara sighed, muttering under her breath, “Okay,” she said dryly, surveying the others. “I have to ask again — why did we have to dress up for this?” The scene outside was, in actuality, absurdly theatrical — like a tiny, chaotic costume party had wandered into a horror movie set.

Clara stood with her hands on her hips, her flowing scarf fluttering faintly in the chilly breeze. Her outfit, a patchwork of dark scraps and torn fabric, looked halfway between stylish and survivalist — a little too convincing, in her opinion. Black streaks of makeup ran across her cheeks like war paint, and strapped to her back was Ivy’s latest ‘practice project’: a makeshift weapon fashioned from a bent sewing needle, paperclip fragments, and a bead for a pommel. It was surprisingly well-balanced… but not reassuring.

“We’re already risking our necks breaking into a probably not haunted but still incredibly creepy and troublesome especially at three-inches tall house,” Clara complained. “Isn’t that festive enough?”

Lyra, standing proudly beside her, gave a slow twirl that made her short, tattered nurse outfit swirl dangerously. She’d smeared crimson paint across the front to look like blood — and maybe a little too much around her lips for ‘effect’. The way she confidently adjusted her tiny nurse cap and winked at Clara made it clear she knew exactly what she was doing.

“Because, sweetheart,” Lyra purred, “Halloween is all about commitment. We can’t just borrow from a spooky place — we’ve got to become the spooky. Besides you were the one who found and helped make this, I just wanted to fit it in.” She proceeded to playfully puff up her chest, bouncing her boobs in a seductive manner, blowing Clara a kiss.

Clara turned her head with a groan, but also couldn’t help but let out a slight flustered shade on her face her makeup hid.

At the same time, Ivy was waddling slightly in her full-body kaiju suit — an ambitious creation made from green fabric scraps, clay scales, and toothpick claws. Her face peeked through a jagged mouth opening, wide-eyed and slightly embarrassed. “I-It’s for structural testing!” she stammered defensively when she noticed Clara’s amused look. “It’s—uh—multi-layered! And heat-resistant! Maybe!”

Sally was, as usual, in her own world — her outfit split perfectly down the middle. One half of her body was dressed like an angel, with bits of cotton fluff and pale thread wings, while the other half was pure devil, marked with red ink and tiny black horns made from beetle shell shards. She grinned proudly. “I couldn’t pick, so I picked both! Guess that makes me… dangerously balanced!”

“More like completely unbalanced,” Clara muttered under her breath, also with a soft chuckle.

Meanwhile, the biggest surprise of the bunch was Ari, whose normal look of long black hair, piercing red eyes, adorned webs all over, riding atop a black widow, would fit any peak Halloween art piece. But despite barely ever wearing clothes to begin with, Clara was the one who suggested a change of pace.

Ari chuckled nearby, baring her fangs as her deep crimson outfit hugged every curve. Her vampire costume was almost regal — a shredded bit of velvet stitched together into a dress, with tiny bat wings draped from her shoulders. “Mmm, I have to admit,” she said, licking her lips dramatically, “this is the most fun I’ve had wearing anything in years. You got an eye for beauty Clara darling~”

“What can I say, gotta admit you clean up good,” Clara complimented with a smirk, admiring just how perfect Ari fit into the vampire aesthetic. All the goth girls I know would immediately fall under her spell.

She then leaned toward Clara. “You’d make a delightful vampire too, you know. Just a little bite right here—”

“No biting.” Clara instinctively took a step back, giving the spider woman a playful slap on the back of the head.

Lyra adjusted her cap again and waved her arm dramatically toward the looming house. “Alright, my frightfully fabulous crew — tonight, we borrow in style!”

A gust of wind rattled the old shutters, and the distant hoot of an owl made even Sally hesitate.

Clara groaned. “Fine, but if this does become Night of the Living Borrower, we all throw Lyra at it first.”

Lyra grinned devilishly. “Mmm… that almost sounds like a promise.”

“Greeeeeeeeat. Tiny horror movie night. What could possibly go wrong?”

The wooden steps of the patio groaned under the night wind, their once-white paint now little more than flakes clinging to rotting wood. Moss and dead leaves clung to every groove, and each crevice seemed deep enough to swallow something Clara’s size whole.

While the Borrowers bounded up the broken staircase with their typical instinctual leaps — Ari and Sally’s boots barely whispering against the wood, Ivy’s kaiju suit rustling faintly with each hop, and Lyra’s heels letting out clicks with each jump — Clara followed behind, scaling the rough edges by hand. Her scarf trailed behind her like a dusty banner as she climbed, carefully planting each foot in the splintered grooves.

“Still think this counts as fun?” she called up toward Lyra, who just turned with a grin and blew her another kiss.

Clara rolled her eyes and continued. After living at this size for so long, and everything she has been through over the past couple months, she’s been determined to accomplish any tiny task on her own, within reasonable conditions. Stairs were no longer her mortal enemy per se, just another obstacle to conquer.

She noted the eerie far off sounds — distant crickets, rustling of potential small animals, though right before her was the roaring wind and the faint creak of the old house. She was almost at the top when a sudden noise made her freeze — a faint crackling scrape beside her.

Her gaze darted toward a split in the wood, and from the darkness, a glossy, many-legged shape began to emerge. The millipede was huge — easily twice Clara’s length — its chitin glistening in the dim light, every movement accompanied by the faintest click-click-click of its dozens of legs.

“Oh no, nope, nope—” Clara started, backing up a step. “These guys ALWAYS suck…”

The creature’s antennae twitched, tasting the air, then it surged forward with startling speed. Clara let out an audible gasp, jerking her weapon up just as it lunged. In a flash of instinct, she swung — the makeshift blade cutting clean through the wriggling body. The millipede convulsed, then went still, its black ichor pooling in a shallow groove of the wood.

After that moment, there was only the sound of Clara’s quick breathing. Then—

“Ooooh,” came Ari’s sultry voice from above, the ‘vampire Borrower’ crouched on the railing like a dark queen. She eyed the twitching remains with a glint of curiosity before hopping down beside Clara, landing soundlessly. “Nicely done, warrior girl.”

Clara exhaled slowly, straightening up and brushing off her scarf. “Bleh. Yeah. Thanks. Lucky that I’ve dealt with way worse pests than that. Try to make me a midnight snack.”

“Speaking of…” Ari tilted her head, her fangs catching the faint light as she gave the fallen creature a long, assessing look. Then, with a sly smile, she leaned forward and — to Clara’s horror — dipped a finger into the ichor and gave it a tentative taste.

Clara recoiled. “Ari! What—why are you—?!”

Ari smirked, licking the dark residue off her fingertip. “Mm. Earthy… bitter… but not the worst thing I’ve had.” Her eyes flicked toward Clara teasingly. “You’ve got good aim, though. Maybe there’s more bite to you than you think.”

“Ugh, no matter how much you try to normalize it, that’ll always be disgusting,” Clara muttered, though her cheeks flushed slightly at the compliment.

Lyra called from above, peering over the railing in her tattered nurse outfit. “Everything alright down there? Or should I come down and kiss your wounds better?”

“Everything’s fine,” Clara shouted up, adjusting her scarf and nudging the millipede aside with her boot. “Let’s just get this over with before the rest of the bugs decide to join in.”

Ari chuckled, licking her lips once more before following Clara up the last step. “Don’t worry,” she murmured with a grin, “if anything else creeps out, we’ll make it part of the feast.”

The group reunited and gathered before the front door — an enormous slab of warped wood framed by crumbling stone and moss. The faint glow of the moon through the clouds gave it an almost supernatural presence, the tarnished brass knocker that appeared to be shaped like a snarling lion’s head. The thing towered above them like a fortress gate.

Clara folded her arms, eyeing the thick gap at the bottom. “So… I’m guessing the plan is to crawl under that thing?” she said, her tone edging on tired sarcasm. “Nice, simple, doesn’t involve plummeting to our deaths—”

Lyra, who was already staring up the wall with that dangerous sparkle in her eye, shook her head with mock offense. “Only under the door? Clara, please. Where’s the thrill in that?”

“Oh lord,” Clara muttered immediately, already sensing trouble.

Sally had one hand shielding her eyes as she looked up the front of the house. “I see a cracked window about three floors up!” she called. “We could totally make that!”

“Three floors?!” Clara spun to her. “Sally, we’re three inches tall! That’s like—”

“—like thirty feet, I know,” Ari interrupted, stretching her arms above her head languidly, the tattered sleeves of her vampire outfit flowing around her. “But you have to admit, the view will be worth it.”

Ivy, fidgeting with her tail-shaped section of the kaiju suit, piped up quietly. “T-technically, the siding here is climbable. There’s a lot of chipped paint and cracks to grab onto…”

“See?” Lyra said cheerfully, clapping her hands once. “It’s decided then! We’re going up.”

Before Clara could protest further, Lyra hooked her arm around her waist. Clara yelped as her feet left the ground, the world suddenly tilting around her. “Wait—”

“Relax, warrior girl,” Lyra said with a grin, scaling the wall like it was nothing. The wood was soft and pitted, the edges perfect footholds for Borrower hands. “Think of this as some more acrobatics training. You’ll thank me later.”

“I’m going to thank you by throwing you off the next ledge,” Clara muttered through gritted teeth, gripping Lyra’s shoulder as they climbed.

Below them, Sally and Ivy worked in tandem — Sally laughing gleefully every few seconds, Ivy muttering under her breath about “testing grip strength.” Ari, meanwhile, climbed effortlessly behind, her vampire cloak fluttering dramatically as she moved, though also lamenting not having easy access to her webs to fling herself up as usual.

Halfway up, the wind picked up again, whistling through the house’s cracks and making the shutters creak open just enough to moan. Clara’s scarf whipped around her face as she looked down — the yard below now dizzyingly far.

Lyra glanced back at her, eyes gleaming mischievously. “Getting nervous?”

“I was fine until you asked!” Clara snapped, clinging tighter.

“Good! Means your instincts are working.”

Ari smirked as she crawled up beside them, her voice low and teasing. “You look very heroic right now, Clara. Like you’re leading an expedition to, what was it called again, Mount Doom?”

“Yeah, and just as many termites,” Clara shot back.

The group finally reached the cracked window — one jagged corner of the glass missing entirely, just large enough for them to slip through. Lyra crouched on the sill and peered inside, the darkness beyond swallowing her reflection.

“Perfect,” she whispered, a grin spreading across her lips. “Our haunted kingdom awaits.”

Clara groaned, muttering under her breath, “If something jumps out at us, I’m haunting you next.”

Lyra turned, her grin widening. “You promise?”

The cracked window groaned faintly as Lyra eased herself through, her feet landing soundlessly on the dusty wooden sill. The others followed one by one, squeezing past the cobweb-fringed gap in the frame until the Borrowers and Clara stood together, staring out over the vast, dimly lit interior of the house.

The air inside was thick and still, the kind that carried the smell of old paper, rot, and dust. Moonlight filtered in through the boarded windows and the cracks in the ceiling, casting long, trembling beams across the ruined furniture below. A broken chandelier hung crookedly over the room, and in one corner, the outline of an ancient couch lay beneath a gray shroud of dust.

From their vantage point on the sill, the world looked endless — like the hollow shell of something that had been alive once but wasn’t anymore.

Clara folded her arms tightly around herself, shivering despite her makeshift scarf. “Okay…” she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. “I’ve officially seen this movie before.”

Lyra tilted her head toward her. “Which one?”

Clara nodded slowly, scanning the massive, empty room below them. “You know — spooky mansion, weird noises, everyone splits up, then something comes crawling out of the shadows and eats the camera guy first. Classic horror setup.”

Ivy swallowed nervously, her kaiju mask’s paper teeth bobbing as she asked, “A-and… do they usually, uh, make it out?”

Clara hesitated. “…Depends who’s holding the flashlight.”

Sally laughed, swinging her legs over the ledge. “So what happens next, movie expert? Creepy voice? Floating chair? Zombie cat?”

“Could be all three,” Clara said dryly. “Usually the power goes out, the doors lock, and the group keeps saying, ‘let’s split up,’ because apparently teenagers want to die dramatically.”

Lyra grinned and leaned closer, her painted ‘bloody’ lip curling. “You really gotta show me some of this stuff when we get back. Sounds like my kind of enjoyment.”

“If you can learn to sit on your ass for an hour and a half, maybe,” Clara muttered.

Ari rested her elbows on her knees, gazing down at the shadowy floor. “So, what do they usually find in places like this? Besides trouble, I mean.”

Clara thought for a moment. “Old portraits with eyes that move. Dolls that stare too long. Weird whispers that say people’s names when no one’s there.” She gave a faint smirk. “If any of that starts happening, I’m running back out the window.”

Lyra chuckled and draped an arm over her shoulder. “Oh, come on. Where’s your Halloween spirit? If we’re lucky, maybe the ghosts will like us.”

“They can like us from a distance,” Clara said firmly, brushing some dust off her scarf.

Ivy peeked through a crack in the boards. “You don’t think there’s, like… a giant rat living in here, do you?”

“Worse,” Ari teased softly, her fangs glinting faintly in the light. “Maybe there’s another Borrower who never left.”

That earned her a glare from Ivy and a quiet snort from Lyra.

Clara exhaled slowly, her breath misting faintly in the chill air. From somewhere deep in the house came a faint, rhythmic creak… creak… creak, like something swinging gently in the dark.

“…Okay,” she said, straightening her scarf and gripping her weapon. “Let’s just make this quick.”

Lyra flashed her a wicked smile. “Now you’re getting into the spirit.”

The group dropped down one by one from the windowsill, landing with soft thuds on the dusty wooden floor below (Clara of course being carried down by Lyra as usual). The surface was blanketed in a fine gray layer that resembled a cloudy fog, each movement leaving behind teeny footsteps, as the faint sound of shifting boards echoed through the vast emptiness of the house.

Clara crouched as she regained herself, her scarf settling around her shoulders, weapon held at the ready. She took a slow breath and glanced around — the hallway stretched endlessly before them, lined with doorways on either side and choked in shadow. The air was colder down here, heavy with the scent of mildew and time.

“This place feels wrong,” Clara whispered, tightening her grip on the handle of the makeshift spear. “How does the neighbourhood just let these places stay up for so long?”

Lyra, a few paces ahead, brushed a cobweb from her arm and smiled over her shoulder, her blood-smeared nurse outfit practically glowing against the gloom. “It’s like we always say, one human’s laziness is a Borrower’s treasure. Besides, it’s just old wood and bad lighting. If you start shaking every time a floorboard creaks, we’ll be here all night.”

“It’s not the creaks I’m worried about,” Clara muttered.

Ari trailed her fingers along the wall, the motion almost lazy, her eyes half-lidded but alert. “She’s not wrong, though. Old houses like this have… memories.” Her lips curved into a teasing smirk. “Sometimes they whisper them back.”

Sally snorted, spinning her spear-half prop like a baton. “When the walls start whispering, I just whisper back. Loudly.”

“I think that’s called yelling,” Ivy murmured, trailing behind them in her bulky kaiju suit, every movement producing a soft shff shff sound. She was clearly nervous, her eyes darting at every shadow that swayed when the wind brushed through the cracks.

They made their way down the hallway, their tiny footsteps making faint, rhythmic taps on the wood. The boards groaned occasionally — not from their weight at all, but from the slow settling of the house itself, as if it were sighing in its sleep.

Clara led the way, scanning every corner, weapon poised and ready. They walked underneath a large piece of peeled wallpaper that lay in the centre of their path, going against better judgment and giving it a touch with her finger. “How can a place so dead feel so alive?”

Lyra walked just behind her, clearly amused. “That’s the fun of it,” she said. “You’re supposed to feel alive when everything around you looks dead.”

“That’s one way to describe fear,” Clara said flatly, glancing back at her. “Not like Borrowers particularly know fear to begin with.”

“Oh, we get fear,” Ari rebutted, her cape dramatically flowing behind her. “When you spend your entire life running or fighting from the danger, of course something like a ‘threat from ghouls’ would be far more thrilling to us.”

“Have ya ever come back to your hideout to find your entire days worth of stash GONE?” Sally exaggeratingly expressed. “Now that’s terrifying.”

They passed a doorframe missing its door entirely, revealing a pitch-dark room beyond. Moonlight barely touched the edges of broken furniture inside. The wind whistled softly through the hallway, making the loose chandelier above sway with a faint metallic creeeak…

Ivy jumped, clinging to Sally’s shoulder. “W-was that—?”

“Relax,” Sally said, patting her back. “Just the house stretching its bones. My shoes do that all the time!”

Clara kept her eyes forward, scanning ahead. “What’s next? Is it gonna start walking or talking?”

Lyra giggled softly, brushing dust from her skirt. “Could always ease the burden and keep carrying you, darling. It’s what a good nurse does.”

Clara exhaled sharply, not even bothering to answer that one.

They pressed on, the group’s little silhouettes swallowed by the long, shadowed corridor — five tiny explorers in a forgotten giant’s world, their voices small against the quiet weight of the haunted house.

The hallway then came to an abrupt end at a gaping balcony, its banister splintered and leaning precariously over the open space below. The floorboards creaked as the tiny group approached, the vast interior of the house stretching out beneath them like a cavern.

Below, two more levels descended into the dark — the second floor broken by collapsed beams, and the first far below, buried in shadow. The moonlight filtering through the boarded windows painted everything in cold streaks of silver and blue. What had once been a grand foyer now looked like the bones of some forgotten creature — the torn remains of a staircase, dust-covered furniture slumped like corpses, and webs shimmering faintly in every corner.

Lyra stepped right up to the edge, resting a hand on a cracked splinter. “Oh, now this is spooky,” she said with delighted admiration, her eyes glimmering violet in the dark. “Would you look at that view? I can almost hear the creepy music in the wind.”

Ari leaned beside her, peering down thoughtfully, her vampire cape brushing the wood. “It’s beautiful isn’t it,” she murmured, her voice soft and low. “In a tragic way. Like something so desperately wants to thrive.”

Sally crouched on the edge of the banister, kicking her legs idly. “I bet if we dropped a coin or something, it’d take a whole minute to hit the ground!” she said with a grin, already looking for something to toss.

“No funny business—” Clara snapped automatically — then made the mistake of looking over herself.

The drop hit her all at once — the dizzying depth, the open air, the faint shimmer of cobweb strands far below. Her stomach twisted. “Hhh—nope! Heights still bad! Very bad!” she yelped, staggering backward.

She stumbled straight into Ivy, who let out a startled squeak as her kaiju costume puffed up with the collision. “C-Clara! Careful! You’ll tear the tail seam!”

Clara backed off quickly, clutching her scarf and glaring toward the railing. “Y’all can do your classic Borrower death drop admiration routine. Already have too many nightmares on that without the haunted décor backdrop.”

Lyra turned around, smirking. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad. We’ve climbed and fell higher than this before.”

“Yeah, but at least I could see the ground. Not this hellish abyss!”

Ari gave a low chuckle, fangs glinting faintly. “You humans, always whining about your sense of scale. You act like the floor’s waiting to eat you.”

“Maybe it is,” Clara muttered. “Wouldn’t surprise me at this point.”

Sally cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled down cheerfully, “HELLOOO? Any ghosts home?!”

The sound echoed faintly through the house — a drawn-out, partly squeaky, hollow version of her own voice bouncing back from somewhere deep below. The group froze.

“…I don’t know if it likes that,” Ivy whispered, eyes wide.

Sally grinned sheepishly. “Heh. My bad.”

Clara sighed, rubbing her temple with one hand. Meanwhile, just out of view from the tiny girls, a faint sound drifted up from below — a slow, rhythmic tap… tap… tap, like footsteps moving on old wood…

Just then, Lyra spoke up with the thought Clara was dreading ever since they entered. “Well, this place isn’t gonna borrow itself. And since Miss Jitters over here is just dying to get out ASAP, let’s cover more ground and split up—”

“No. Absolutely not,” Clara groaned audibly, pointing her makeshift spear accusingly at the blonde nurse. “What did I say about bad things happening whenever people split up in haunted houses!?”

Lyra tilted her head, clearly enjoying every second of her exasperation. “Oh, come on, Clara. One: That’s just your human movie logic. This is real life.”

“That’s exactly what they say before something eats them!”

“And two: We’re Borrowers, honey. Splitting up is our way of life.”

Sally was already bouncing on her half angel and devil heels, her grin too wide for comfort. “I call the second floor! Bet it’s got the coolest stuff!”

“I’ll come with her, we’ve got an eye for the goods,” Lyra said immediately, giving a wink that implied she had no interest in being safe or sensible.

Clara threw up her hands. “Of course you will.”

Ari crossed her arms, the crimson of her outfit almost melting into the darkness. “Then I’ll take this level. Need to be certain that nothing sneaks up on us… and I do like the shadows.” Her tone was smooth, teasing, but her eyes glimmered with quiet focus. “Maybe there are some voices to commune with.”

That left Ivy, who looked between them nervously, the fake teeth of her kaiju costume bobbing as she swallowed. “G-guess I’ll go to bottom floor. I-I can watch over Clara.”

Clara sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Y’know, of all the straws available, yours is probably the safest bet.” She skipped over, squeezing onto the kaiju suit tightly, emitting a light blushing from Ivy’s face, obscured through the mouth.

They gathered near the broken railing, the air thick with the smell of dust and old wood. After a short, whispered argument about who should go first, Lyra rolled her eyes and tied together a few long strands of thread and scrap twine from her satchel — one of their usual Borrower ropes. It dangled all the way down to the shadowy first floor.

“Don’t say I never make things convenient for ya, babe,” Lyra said with a smirk.

“Convenient would be leaving,” Clara muttered. Still, she looped the rope around her shoulder, while Ivy carefully followed suit, grabbing ahold of it, while Clara bear hugged the back of the kaiju suit. “Alright, come on. Just… one step at a time. Or fall at a time.”

Ivy nodded, her small hands trembling slightly as they both began to descend. The rope creaked faintly against the railing, their feet brushing the cold air as they moved lower. The glow from the upper floors faded quickly, replaced by the thicker darkness below.

“W-we’re almost there,” Ivy whispered, trying to sound reassuring.

Clara clung to her tightly anyway, her scarf fluttering around them as they reached the last few feet.

They finally touched down softly on the thick layer of dust covering the desk, the old wood emitting not a sound from their tiny feet. The air smelled of rot and mildew, and every sound — the shifting wood, the faint rustle of insects — echoed through the empty corridor like whispers.

Clara exhaled slowly, gripping Ivy’s arm as her eyes adjusted to the murky light below. “Okay,” she muttered, glancing around at the wrecked furniture and towering shadows. “Now we just have to not die. Easy.”

Ivy nodded weakly, holding her spear close. “O-okay.”

Meanwhile, up above, Lyra and Sally stood on the railing, glancing down.

“Race you to the second floor,” Sally said with a grin.

“You’re on.” Lyra licked her lips.

Both Borrowers proceeded to leap together, flipping midair, completely ignoring the rope, before landing in a puff of dust on the floor below. Lyra straightened, brushing off her nurse outfit like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Reckless,” Ari called softly from above, her voice echoing faintly down the hall. “Even by your standards.”

“Stylish,” Lyra corrected. “And we stuck the landing.”

Ari just smiled faintly, turning toward the dark corridor ahead of her, cracking her fingers. “Alright. Let’s see what tales these upper halls have to tell.” She soon vanished into the pitch-black stretch of the third floor, her red eyes flickering once before the dark swallowed her whole.

---

“God, it’s like I stumbled into every Burton/Del Toro gothic mansion, only, ACK, no one bothered to clean it,” Clara muttered, brushing a hand against the grimy surface. Her voice came out in a low whisper, as if she might disturb something sleeping.

Ivy adjusted the kaiju mask over her head, her little claws clinking faintly against her improvised spear. “It’s… kinda beautiful though, right?” she said quietly. “How much is still here after so many years. A-A-Although I have stayed with my parents in abandoned cabins in the woods sometimes. So it’s just nice seeing something be creepy and homey.”

Clara gave her a look. “That’s… optimistic. But I will say, I’ll take this over a cabin like that ANYDAY. You are far braver than I ever could be.” The compliment emitted another blush and smile on Ivy.

Below them, the floor stretched into shadow, cracked tile half-swallowed by cobwebs. A toppled chair lay beside the desk like a fallen monument. The wallpaper had peeled away in long, curling strips, and what little moonlight seeped through the windows gave everything a blue, ghostly glow.

Clara carefully looked down from the edge of the desk to a drawer handle. But then, something scuttled in the darkness below. They both froze.

“…Alright, what is the least likeliest way not to die, out in the open, or hidden in corners…” Clara wondered in a whisper. Ivy gulped, her spear trembling just slightly.

After Clara grabbed ahold of the kaiju suit once more, Ivy leapt down onto the floor, releasing a puff of dusty smoke, as the two tiny figures reassessed their surroundings. Their mini shadows stretched long across the ruined corridor as they crept across the enormous wooden floorboards, each of Clara’s careful steps echoing softly into the cavernous dark. The old hall feels endless — all cracked furniture, peeling wallpaper, and drooping chandeliers that hang like wilted flowers.

Ivy waddled forward, keeping her tiny spear raised, scanning every shadow. “This place is… huge… even by human standards,” she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. “Feels like walking through a giant’s tomb.”

Clara nods, gripping her own sharpened needle close, slightly smudging her warpaint as she scratched her face. “Or a horror movie set,” she adds under her breath. “All we need now is for something to crawl out of the walls…”

They edge past an overturned chair leg thicker than a tree trunk. The beam of light from Clara’s tiny lantern sweeps across the floor—then freezes.

“…Ivy,” she says softly. “Look.”

The space ahead of them is littered with shapes — hundreds of them, scattered and curled, a macabre landscape of husks. Dead beetles. Broken centipedes. Crushed spiders. The remnants stretch out across the entire hall, like a miniature battlefield.

Clara covers her mouth, simultaneously grossed out, yet drawn in closure by a mysterious mixture of curiosity and unease. “Ugh, I’ve been privy to too many bug corpses in my life as of late. But… never this much…”

Ivy crouches beside one of the bodies, her brow furrowed. “L-looks like some died,” she murmurs, poking at the cracked shell of a beetle. “But some were killed. Some torn apart. Some decayed. Some left to rot.” She glances around warily. “B-but. Why left all like this. Like…”

Clara shivers, taking a step back. “…something keeping it like this? Like it enjoys creating ‘art’ out of an insect cemetery…”

Unbeknownst to them, a lantern light flickers over claw marks gouged into the wall — huge, jagged furrows far too large to belong to any insect. Dust falls from the ceiling as the house groans, a deep creak echoing like a sigh through the old boards.

Clara instinctively grabs Ivy’s costumed arm. “You heard that too, right?”

Ivy swallows hard, nodding. “Y-yeah… and I think we should move. Quietly.”

They start tiptoeing through the graveyard of exoskeletons, careful not to crunch anything beneath their feet. The farther they go, the thicker the remains become — until Clara spots something glinting among the carnage, half-buried in dust.

It looks like… thread. Silvery, impossibly fine, and stretched taut across the bodies. One they all had a lot of experience dealing with due to a certain someone.

Ivy leans in closer. “…That’s webbing.”

Clara’s breath catches. “The one time I wish Ari was nearby…”

The tiny woman looks around, passing through the abandoned kitchen, where the hinges on nearly every cabinet were torn off. Mold grew on empty glasses. The rhythmic plop of a water droplet echoing. And rugged curtains that lightly shook through an invisible breeze.

Yet when Clara turned her head, the curtains grew to life. Dozens of moths shuttered. Wings stretched. Eyes glazing on the intruders. Click. Click.

TURN. Clara looked immediately back at the curtains, hearing some sound, sensing something was off. But nothing. It was the same curtains, which from her tiny perspective, she couldn’t get a clear look at. But she could’ve sworn something up there was staring at her. She grit her teeth, hating that she was falling into every horror movie trap, and ran back up to Ivy.

But suddenly, a brand new sound appeared before them. A rumbling that started as a faint tremor through the floorboards — a distant thump-thump-thump that Clara first mistook for her own heartbeat. But Ivy’s head snapped toward the sound, even without her trademark mask, instincts kicking in before her mind even caught up.

Then came the rustling. Fast. Heavy. Closing in.

A shadow burst through the far end of the hallway — a hulking rat, its matted fur bristling, its eyes reflecting faint red glints from the lantern’s light. The air filled with the stench of rot and musk as it skittered over the corpses of insects without hesitation, each step a small quake to a Borrower’s tiny body.

“Move!” Ivy barked.

Clara froze, only to be tackled sideways — Ivy’s padded shoulder slamming into her just as the rat lunged. Clara rolled into a cloud of choking dust, landing beside a massive torn cushion, coughing and shielding her eyes.

By the time she looked up, Ivy was standing in the open — in that ridiculous kaiju suit, the stitched scales glinting faintly, her spear raised like a knight’s lance.

The rat hissed, whiskers twitching, and began to circle her. Ivy didn’t move an inch. “I’ve fought bigger beasts than you,” she muttered under her breath, though her trembling hands betrayed how tense she was. This rat seemed far more aggressive than others she’s faced in the past.

The rat lunged again — and Ivy met it head-on. She ducked beneath its snapping jaws, driving the sharpened end of her spear upward. The blow didn’t pierce deep, but it made the creature squeal and recoil, rearing back onto its haunches.

Clara, heart pounding, scrambled to her feet. “Ivy!”

“I’m fine!” Ivy shouted, standing her ground as the rat charged once more, slicing at its side with the jagged scrap she kept at her hip. She spun out, using her makeshift claws from the kaiju costume to rake across its tail. What the suit lacked in agility, it made up for in defensive capabilities.

The rat let out another screech, spinning around in fury.

Ivy’s chest heaved. “You want a fight?!” she shouted up at it, trembling but defiant. “Then pick on someone your own size—or at least close enough!”

The rat charged once more. Ivy stood her ground once more. The two beasts were locked in a stalemate.

At the same time, over at Clara’s supposed safe spot, the floor beneath her erupted with motion. A cluster of massive beetles and roaches, disturbed by the fight, scuttled toward her in a glistening wave. She yelped, swinging her own makeshift blade in panic, but one of the bugs slammed into her shoulder with the weight of a brick, knocking her backward under the shadow of a toppled chair leg.

“Get the hell off me!” she shouted, kicking and thrashing as the creature’s legs scrambled across her chest, its mandibles clicking inches from her face. Its chitin scraped her skin through her clothes as it tried to pin her. She could smell it — that sour, earthy stench of decay and damp.

She rammed the butt of Ivy’s weapon against it, but it only hissed louder. Desperation gave her strength; she brought her sharpened scrap up and jammed it straight into the creature’s underbelly. The crack of its shell splitting was wet and sharp. A spray of greenish guts splattered across her makeshift armour and scarf as it convulsed violently, then went still.

Clara lay there for a heartbeat, panting, sticky fluids dripping down her arms. “God—disgusting…”

Then she heard it — Ivy’s cry. A sharp yelp. Cut off fast.

Clara scrambled up, whipping her head around just in time to see Ivy being yanked backward into the shadows by a second rat. Its long, pink tail lashed out behind it as it disappeared through a gap in the wall, dragging her with it. Ivy’s spear clattered to the floor and rolled to Clara’s feet.

“Ivy!” Clara shouted, stumbling after them — but the gap was too far, the wall already silent.

The echo of her own insignificant voice bounced back at her, swallowed by the vast emptiness of the decaying house.

For a few seconds, Clara just stood there — breathing hard, blood and bug ichor dripping from her face and clothes. The lantern’s light flickered faintly beside her, casting long, shivering shadows. She was alone. Three and a half inches tall. In a dirty, deadly, bug-infested haunted house.

“…Fuck…”

---

Lyra and Sally landed lightly on the warped wooden floor of what must’ve once been a bedroom. The air was thick with dust, and every surface was coated in decades of neglect. A torn curtain fluttered lazily from a cracked window, casting faint, ghostly movements across the room.

“Now this,” Lyra purred, hands on her hips as she took in the scene, “has potential. Think of all the things just waiting to be borrowed.” Her blood-streaked nurse costume gleamed faintly in the dim light, every bit as dramatic as her grin.

Sally bounced off toward the open closet, her split outfit fluttering as she went. “Ohhh, spooky ancient clothes!” she called, dangling from the bottom of a hanging scrap of fabric bigger than a sail. A cloud of dust exploded over her, making her sneeze hard enough to topple backward.

Lyra chuckled and made her way toward an old desk in the corner, its drawers slightly ajar. She clambered up onto it, brushing away debris as she peered inside. “Let’s see… moldy paper, spiderwebs, half a pencil… ooh.” She tugged out a large, rusted key, holding it up with intrigue. “Now this is craftsmanship.”

“Hey, Lyra, look!” Sally shouted, holding up a broken hand mirror shard. “It’s like one of those ghost-movie things where someone appears behind you!” She grinned into the reflection, wiggling her eyebrows—then froze.

Lyra turned. “...What?”

Sally blinked. “…Never mind. Thought I saw something.”

Lyra smirked but leaned closer, her purple eyes flicking between Sally and the mirror. “Maybe the house wants to play too,” she teased, draping an arm around Sally’s shoulders.

“Fine by me!” Sally laughed, trying to play it cool, though her eyes darted back toward the shadows beyond the closet. “Bet I could take a ghost in a fight.”

Their laughter echoed softly through the empty room—until, beneath it, came a faint creak from under the bed.

Sally then marched confidently along the old desk’s surface, her little boots thumping against the warped wood as she inspected every abandoned trinket and forgotten relic. A dusty perfume bottle lay on its side like an ancient vase, and a cracked photo frame leaned against the wall—its picture faded to near nothing but vague human shapes.

“This stuff’s awesome,” she said, wiping her finger through the dust. “Do humans really just leave all their cool junk behind when they die?”

“Depends how dead they are,” Lyra called teasingly from above.

Sally glanced up. Lyra was swinging gracefully from a string of dangling beads—what was once probably part of a lamp or curtain tie. The beads glittered faintly in the moonlight as she arced across the room, her movement effortless, catlike.

“You know,” Lyra said mid-swing, “I’m surprised, wouldn’t expect you to be comfortable in a haunted kind of place like this.”

Sally shrugged, hopping over to a half-buried notebook. “Pfft. I’ve slept in a crow’s nest before. One night there was this screeching sound—like a dying squirrel—and the whole thing was shaking.” She paused, thinking back with a grin. “Turns out it was just the crow having a nightmare.”

Lyra landed on a curtain rod, chuckling. “And that’s what we love about ya.” She brushed her hair back, glancing out the cracked window. “I’ve been in plenty of spooky places too. Old basements, human crawlspaces, forgotten attics… usually hunting for something shiny. Or running from something with too many legs.”

Sally leaned against a pencil longer than she was tall. “Ever see anything that really freaked you out?”

Lyra’s smirk faltered for a fraction of a second. “Couple times,” she said softly. “Every so often you have one of those moments sensing that something is with you in the walls. Never see what it is—but you know it was there.”

Sally blinked, intrigued. “Creepy! That’s supposed to be our job!”

Lyra’s grin returned, playful and sly. Meanwhile, from somewhere deeper in the house, a faint thud echoed—distant and hollow.

Sally strutted toward the cracked mirror perched against the wall, her steps full of swagger and mischief. The shard was larger than her, tilted slightly so it caught just enough of her reflection to feed her ego. She wiped a layer of dust off it with both hands and grinned.

“Not bad,” she said, admiring her two-tone angel/devil costume “You still got it, Sally.”

She began making faces—snarling like a monster, flashing a wide toothy smile, then doing a dramatic wink. The distorted cracks made her look like several versions of herself, each expression overlapping oddly. She giggled at it.

But then she noticed something. Her reflection wasn’t quite right.

In the mirror, her hand moved a split-second too late. And her head tilted just a little farther than she actually did.

“…Huh?” she whispered, stepping closer. Her tiny hands pressed against the cold glass, squinting as she tilted her head from side to side. The reflection seemed to flicker faintly, like something was moving behind the mirror.

Before she could voice her confusion, a shape moved across the reflection. A shadowy blur, slithering through the cracks like smoke—then something like a hand pressed from inside the glass.

Sally screamed, flailing backward and tumbling off the desk. She hit the floor with a puff of dust, landing on her back and staring wide-eyed up at the desk where the mirror was, as it quivered slightly in place.

Lyra heard the slight commotion and turned from her position on the bed bench. “What happened?” she called out. “You actually spot a ghost!?”

Sally shook her body, regaining her sense of composure. “Uhh, I think? Something was in the mirror up there!”

Lyra leapt over herself back onto the desk and stood in front of the mirror shard. The reflection was perfectly still again—just their tiny, wide-eyed faces looking back.

For a long moment, neither spoke. Then Lyra exhaled sharply, trying to brush it off with a grin. “Maybe it was just your reflection getting scared of itself.”

“Hah,” Sally said, still pale but managing a shaky laugh. “Maybe so. I do like giving myself the spooks sometimes, I guess. Yep.” But even still, she didn’t sound convinced. The free-spirited Sally was now beginning to feel slightly more uncomfortable. A rare sight.

Meanwhile, from somewhere deep within the mirror, faint and nearly imperceptible, came a sound like a whispering breath.

Sally brushed herself off, still muttering about the mirror as she walked away from the desk. The floorboards ever so slightly creaked with her every miniscule step. The huge, dust-caked bed loomed beside her like a slumbering beast, its blanket half-hanging over the edge in heavy folds.

She glanced up toward the curtain rod where Lyra now perched, testing her weight on a hanging cord, before swinging her legs and peering toward a shelf across the room.

Sally sighed, turning back toward the bed. “If I find a skeleton under there, I’m calling dibs on the teeth—could make good daggers.”

She chuckled nervously, peeking into the shadowy void beneath the bedframe. The space stretched deep, a hollow tunnel of cobwebs and old fabric, thick with decades of dust. Her reflection in the dusty floorboards seemed to waver, warped by the faint trembling of the room. Then, something moved inside the darkness.

Sally froze. She squinted, stepping forward, as if she was being lured in by a siren. “Now I’m thinking there really is a raccoon in—”

A rush of motion erupted from the shadows. A black, formless shape shot forward, faster than she could react.

“—WHAT THE—!”

The thing snatched her in an instant, yanking her off her feet. Her scream cut short as she was dragged beneath the bed, kicking wildly, one shoe slipping free and spinning across the floor.

“Huh?” Lyra’s voice snapped from above. She spun around, eyes wide, scanning the room. The floor was still, silent except for the faint swaying of the hanging lamp she’d been climbing on.

The only trace of Sally was that single boot lying in the dust near the bed.

Lyra’s eyes twitched. Her teasing grin vanished as she crouched low on the curtain rod, her gaze darting toward the bed’s edge. “...Sally?” she called quietly.

No answer.

Only the low creak of the old house settling, and a soft rustling from beneath the bed — too faint to tell whether it was movement… or breathing.

After retrieving the boot, Lyra carefully slipped out of the bedroom, her heels clicking faintly on the dusty wood as she entered the adjoining room — what must’ve once been a study or sitting room. The door hung crooked on its hinges, and she slipped through the gap easily, the scent of old paper and mildew immediately thick in the air.

“Alright, Sally,” she muttered under her breath, “you’d better be pulling one of your stunts.”

No response — only silence.

She exhaled sharply and decided to focus on something else for now. Her nerves weren’t going to get the better of her. The new room was filled with opportunity — a fallen lamp, a cracked picture frame, and an overturned jewellery box spilling rusted trinkets across the floor.

“Well, did say I wanted to do some borrowing, don’t mind if I do,” Lyra whispered, smirking. She knelt beside the jewellery box, brushing away cobwebs to examine a half-tarnished locket, a few old buttons, and a glittering marble. “Perfect little treasures for a spooky night out.”

She reached to pick up the locket—Creak.

The floorboards groaned sharply beneath her. Lyra froze, her gaze snapping toward the far wall. Nothing moved. She smirked faintly. “Okay… that’s just the house saying hello.”

She plucked up the locket. The second her fingers closed around it, the entire room seemed to shift. The light fixture swayed above, and a long, low groan echoed from the ceiling. Dust fell in slow, lazy trails through the air.

“…Rude,” she muttered. “I said hello back.”

Lyra set the locket down cautiously, standing up and brushing off her nurse skirt. The creaking stopped immediately. The air stilled. Her violet eyes narrowed.

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be, huh,” she said aloud, crossing her arms. “You don’t like it when I touch your stuff?”

Silence.

Lyra smirked and deliberately reached for the marble this time.

Thud.

Something heavy shifted in the walls, making the floor vibrate beneath her feet. A sudden gust of air rolled through the cracks in the window frame, stirring her hair.

“Alright, alright, jeez” she said slowly, voice dropping to a whisper, “either this house has a personality…” She turned her head, eyeing the shadows behind her. “...or something in it really doesn’t like Borrowers.”

The locket she’d set down slid an inch across the floor, as if nudged by an invisible hand.

She stepped back, every instinct suddenly on edge. The house had gone quiet again — too quiet — except for the faint sound of something metallic slowly rolling across the floor behind her.

Lyra crouched low, eyes narrowing as the marble she’d just been eyeing rolled a few feet away—only to stop neatly beside another small object in the dust: a copper earring, its gem cracked but still faintly glinting in the dim light.

She cocked her head. “...Oh, that’s subtle,” she murmured.

Her gaze lifted ahead — a faint trail of objects stretched across the floor, each spaced just far enough apart to form a winding, deliberate path deeper into the dark hallway. Old buttons, scraps of metal, a ring, a rusted thimble — all glittering faintly in the moonlight that cut through the boarded windows.

It looked like something — or someone — had laid them out.

“Alright,” Lyra muttered, planting her hands on her hips. “Either a spirit’s got good taste, or Sally’s pranking me from beyond the grave. Or maybe this is all Clara’s master plan to get back at me. Oh, that’d just make me love her even more.”

Her voice tried to sound flippant, with her usually snarky attitude, but there was a twinge of tension under it. She took a few careful steps forward, her heels tapping on old dust. Every time she picked up an object to examine it — a locket chain, a marble, a button — another faint creak echoed somewhere further along the trail.

She tilted her head, lips curling into a daring grin. “So that’s how we’re playing it, huh?”

Lyra began to follow the trail more deliberately now, swinging her hips with mock confidence as she went, eyes sharp, alert to every shadow and sound. The path curved out of the study, leading through a doorway whose frame was cracked down the middle. Beyond it lay another room, cloaked in thicker darkness.

As she stepped through, the air grew colder — noticeably, unnaturally colder. Her breath fogged faintly.

Lyra hesitated, fingers brushing against the rope of her satchel. “Alright, spirit,” she whispered, her smirk thinning into focus, “if you’re trying to flirt with me, you could’ve just asked.”

She took another step forward. The final item in the trail — a small silver pendant shaped like a heart — sat right at the edge of a bedframe’s shadow. The pendant trembled once… and then slowly began to slide backward, disappearing under the bed.

Lyra let out a groan at being lured all around haphazardly until she heard a creak right above her atop the bed. Licking her lips, she leapt up high, running up the side of the dirty blankets. However once she reached the top sheets, her heart for the briefest of moments stopped: there was a human.

At least she thought it was a human. It was vaguely human-shaped, dressed in socks, pants, and a shirt, lying there as completely still as a corpse. She assumed this was probably the token skeleton of the place, probably meant to leap up and spook unsuspecting intruders if a trap is triggered. However, even to the ever curious and troublemaking Lyra, there was something about this that didn’t make her want to inspect it any closer than she already did, so hastily skittered off the bed.

Sliding back onto the ground, Lyra crouched low, brushing aside a curtain of cobwebs as she re-followed the trail of trinkets into a forgotten corner of the room, in a rustic coat closet. Dust clung to her hair and the edge of her nurse outfit, but she ignored it, her eyes glittering with mischief.

“C’mon then,” she murmured, brushing her fingers as she pulled herself up a dangling fabric. “Show me your big scary secret.”

Landing on a higher tier shelf, she attempted to clear all the dust away, only to pause as her hand brushed against something cold and porcelain-smooth.

It was a doll. A massive, cracked porcelain doll, half-buried in dust and draped in moldy fabric that had once been a dress. One of its glass eyes was missing, the other staring up blankly. Its lips were painted in a faded red smile, chipped into something that looked almost too wide.

Lyra stared at it for a long moment, then scoffed and broke into a laugh. “Oh, wow. You’re the big scary guardian of treasure? That skeleton was just a trick? You look like you lost a fight with a moth.”

She swung herself up the side of the dirty dress, casually walking across its shoulder as she poked its cheek, grinning. “Not even gonna blink? C’mon, I’ve seen spiders with more personality—”

The doll’s remaining eye shifted.

Lyra froze mid-sentence.

The porcelain head turned with a faint crackling sound. Its mouth—still stuck in that warped grin—clicked open, a brittle grinding noise that made the hair on Lyra’s neck prickle. Then the doll’s arm moved.

With a sudden snap, the porcelain hand lunged forward, gripping Lyra by the torso. “—HEY!” she shouted, kicking and twisting, but the thing’s grip was impossibly strong. Its joints creaked and cracked as it lifted her up, the broken grin tilting toward her. “Put me down, you antique freak—”

The doll obeyed—just not the way she meant.

It swung its arm violently to the side and hurled her into the darkness. Lyra’s scream echoed as she tumbled through a narrow, dust-choked chute that yawned open in the floorboards. She slid down at breakneck speed, bouncing off splintered wood, her hands clawing for a hold that wasn’t there.

Then—THUD!

---

Ari moved like liquid shadow through the upper hallway, her feet barely making a sound against the rotted wood. The air up here was even heavier — thick with the scent of old wallpaper glue, mildew, and something faintly sweet, like decaying flowers. She ran a hand along the wall, letting the peeling paper brush against her fingers as she smiled faintly to herself.

“Now this,” she whispered, “is my kind of place.”

Moonlight trickled through a broken skylight above, painting silver cracks across her pale skin and her vampire attire. Her long black hair drifted as she turned her head slowly, listening. She could hear the groaning bones of the house — the faint scuttling of insects in the distance — and beneath it all, the familiar pulse of the spiders nearby.

Ari closed her eyes and let her voice flow like silk. “Come out, darlings. Let’s see who’s home tonight.”

From every shadow and crack, they came.

Dozens of spiders crawled into view — sleek, dark forms with glinting eyes, their movements graceful and obedient. Most were no bigger than her hand, a couple large enough that she could have ridden them if she wished. Their legs made faint whispering sounds against the dusty floor as they surrounded her in a kind of living circle. Celine will be jealous she didn’t join us.

She knelt, running her fingers gently over one’s carapace. “Good evening, beauties,” she cooed. “Let’s have a look around, shall we? I want to know if this house really has a heartbeat… or if it’s just pretending.”

The largest of the spiders — nearly her size, with long spindly legs and a mottled abdomen — tilted its head toward her, as if understanding. Ari smiled.

“Fan out,” she commanded softly, her tone shifting from fond to authoritative. “Search every crack, every webbed corner. Bring me what you find — movement, scent, anything… unnaturally natural.”

The spiders moved instantly, dispersing into the shadows in a seamless wave. The sound of their hundreds of legs echoed faintly down the corridor like wind in dry leaves.

Ari stood again, arms crossed, listening to them fade into the dark. The silence that followed was comforting — until, somewhere far below, she heard a distant thud, then another, sharper sound.

Her crimson eyes narrowed slightly. “Hmm…” she murmured, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe this house is awake after all.”

From somewhere up ahead, one of her spiders chittered loudly — a short, warning signal. Ari’s grin widened.

“Good,” she whispered. “Show me.”

The vampire cape glimmered faintly in the dim, dusty light that filters through the tall, cracked windows of the hallway. Each step is deliberate — she doesn’t make a sound, but her eyes dart from side to side, tracing the motion of the centipedes she spotted weaving in and out of the shadows.

Suits of armour loom like silent sentinels, their hollow eyes glinting in the light of her passing. One of them creaks — just the metal settling, she tells herself — though she can’t shake the thought that something else might be watching.

Ari reaches out and trails a single thread of silk along the wall, letting it cling to the surface as a tether. She leaps up high to get a closer look at the helmet’s visor, her fingers brushing away a large centipede scuttling across it. It pauses, almost like it recognizes her presence.

“...Well, well,” she murmurs softly, a teasing note creeping into her whisper. “Seems like I’m not the only one who knows how to talk to creepy crawlies.” She notices it let out an erroneous chitter before skittering away.

A faint rustle echoes from further ahead — a sound that doesn’t belong to the bugs. Something heavier, slow, deliberate.

Her lips curl into a sly smirk. “Guess I’ll find out who’s calling the shots around here.”

With a flip, her cape flowing behind her, she lands back in the hallway and moves forward again, this time using whatever else spare webs she has still stuck to her to spin faint threads between the suits of armour as she walks, an instinctive defense — a webbed tripwire to catch anything that tries to follow.

One of the tiny spiders then descends towards her, landing lightly in her palm, tiny legs tapping a quick message into her skin — a warning. Her grin deepens. “Ah… so it is a challenge, then.”

Before she can take another step, a click echoes through the corridor. In the next instant, massive wooden-and-metal traps swing down from above, snapping through the air like the jaws of some mechanical beast. Ari moves like a blur — twisting, leaping, and flipping backward, her webs snapping taut between her fingers as she uses them to sling herself out of harm’s way.

THUD! CRASH!

Each trap narrowly misses her by mere inches, cleaving through old armour and splintering the cracked stone tiles below.

Bugs flood from the walls in response — centipedes, beetles, roaches — a black tide that surges toward her, ready to swallow her whole. But before they can even touch her, the smaller spiders that had been watching from the rafters drop down on shimmering threads, intercepting the swarm.

Ari lands gracefully, her silvery vampire outfit whipping around her legs as she sweeps an arm outward. Web-strands shoot from her fingertips, slicing through a swinging blade trap midair. Another wire snags a spring-loaded dart in flight, stopping it inches from her cheek. Then the air darkens.

A storm of moths bursts from above — hundreds of them, their powdery wings blotting out the flickering light. Ari shields her eyes with one hand, laughing under her breath. “Oh, that’s adorable.”

She somersaults backward, then lashes out. A web-line whips through the air like a blade, scattering moths in a shimmering burst of dust. A second line wraps into a spiral, forming a dome-like net that tightens around the largest cluster, yanking them down into the floor where her smaller spiders descend like shadows to finish the job.

When the last wingbeat fades, Ari stands tall at the center of the carnage, untouched. She flicks dust off her shoulder, smirking into the silent corridor.

“Cute try,” she murmurs. “But you’ll have to do better than that if you want to catch me. I’m the Spider Queen. Or, I should say now, Vampire Queen.”

The pale moonlight spills faintly through the cracked upper window — the only source of light left in the desolate hallway. Ari brushes a streak of dust off her cheek, her breathing calm, posture poised. The night feels still again. Too still.

Then, from above — a flutter.

A long shadow glides across the marble floor, cutting through the silver light. Ari squints, head tilting just slightly as her fingers flex, ready to spin another line. “...Now what’s this?” she whispers.

The silhouette passes over her once more — sharp wings, sleek movement, unnatural silence. A bat, enormous by her scale, gliding in a slow, deliberate circle.

Even she feels the faint prickle of unease along her neck, eyes following its motion. But before she can act, the creature dives.

FWOOOSH!

Its leathery wings snap open with a violent rush of air, and before Ari can leap away, talons clamp around her torso, lifting her effortlessly off the ground. She grunts — more startled than frightened — as the world tilts, the hall below vanishing into a blur.

“You—!” she snarls, thrashing, but the bat only climbs higher, weaving between cobweb-laced rafters until the moonlight disappears entirely. The air grows damp. Cold. Then, with a sudden jerk, it lets go.

Ari falls — straight into something sticky. She bounces once, twice, and stops — strung up in a massive, glistening web stretched across the ceiling beams. Threads cling to her arms and legs, and even with her strength, the silk feels… different. Denser.

“Hah. Well now,” she breathes, smirking despite herself. “That’s some impressive threading.” She tugs experimentally — the web vibrates like a harp string. “You even matched the tensile balance. That’s artistry.”

The shadows around her shift.

“Gotta be honest,” Ari continued, letting out sharp breaths. “Been a long while before anyone has caught me off guard to that degree. Kudos.” Her tone was half-amused, half-admiring, pulling herself off the silk. “And the web? Almost as good as mine.”

From the far corner of the chamber, a dark shape leans forward — a slender figure, long limbs descending the web as if part of it. The faint shimmer of moonlight catches pale skin and a glint of multiple eyes reflecting back at her.

Ari’s grin only widens. “So… you’re the ghost haunting this place.”

The figure pauses, silent, studying her from above — predatory, elegant, and utterly still. The only response is the quiet creak of silk tightening — the web itself seems to breathe as the shadowy figure inches closer.

---

“…Great,” Clara muttered bitterly, gripping Ivy’s fallen spear tight next to her own. “Just freaking perfect.” Her voice rose, angry and shaky. “‘Oh look at me, I’m Lyra, I’m a dumb blonde Borrower. Let’s have a spooky ol’ time in a gross ass abandoned home. And why don’t we split up while we’re at it!’ Fantastic idea!”

The only reply was the sound of something dripping in the dark. Now she was alone — surrounded by webs, corpses, and creaking walls that seemed to breathe far louder than they did earlier.

Clara’s footsteps echoed faintly in the vast silence — tiny scuffs against rotting wood that felt far too loud for comfort, even if to a normal person it probably couldn’t be heard. The house had grown colder, or maybe it was just her nerves; the kind of cold that seeped through fabric and skin and settled in the chest.

She dragged the weapons along at her side, muttering to herself in frustration and fear. “Get chased by rats, covered in bug guts, and lose the only one who could actually fight. Perfect night out, Harper.”

The flickering light barely reached a few inches ahead of her now, swallowed by the heavy dark pressing in from all sides. Every sound — the moan of the old boards, the faint skittering of distant insects, the sigh of the wind through cracks — sounded amplified, like the house was breathing around her.

She rubbed her arm nervously. “Okay. Okay, think. Ivy’s gone, she’s tougher than all of us so she’ll probably be fine. Lyra and Sally are upstairs doing—whatever reckless borrowing stuff they usually do. Ari sleeps in places like this for fun so she’s also fine.” She then swallowed. “And I’m here. Alone. Tiny. In a haunted house. Perfect odds.”

Something creaked sharply behind her. She spun, weapons raised — only to see nothing but shadows stretching long and warped against the walls. Her scarf fluttered in a small draft that came from nowhere.

“I could try and find them… but it’s not like they need my help. They’ve probably dealt with far worse on a daily basis,” she whispered under her breath. “As for me… nope. Not sticking around here.”

She started walking faster — then jogging, her scarf flowing behind her like a flicker of flame in the dark. A corridor that would take less than a minute to pass through at regular size is now a couple minute jog at her barely four inch size; she may be used to that, but not in this environment.

Every step sounded too loud, every shadow looked ready to move. The distant sound of something dragging across the floor somewhere deeper in the house made her heart leap into her throat.

Clara pressed her back against the leg of a fallen table, breathing hard, trying to collect herself. “I’m not gonna die like a bug in a horror movie. I’m not gonna die like a bug in a horror movie,” she whispered, repeating it like a mantra. After all the trouble and danger I’ve had to face in the past couple months, I’m not letting THIS effing place be what takes me down.

Her eyes darted up toward the wall — a vent grate, slightly ajar. To her, it was like a massive gate, but the gap was just wide enough for her to slip through. It looked cramped and dusty, but also enclosed — safe.

She hesitated for only a moment before climbing up the edge of the baseboard, hands trembling as she lifted the grate aside and squeezed into the narrow space beyond. Inside, it was pitch dark, but quieter. She could hear her heartbeat again. The smell of old dust filled the air.

“Alright,” she murmured, sitting back and clutching the spears close. “Just… wait it out, Clara. The others will find you. They always do.”

But as she sat there, a distant thump reverberated through the vent — slow, rhythmic, and moving closer.

The sound started faint — a dull clatter echoing from deep within the vent. Clara froze, every muscle in her tiny body tightening as she strained to listen. It grew louder. Metal groaning, dust raining down, the unmistakable sound of something rolling. She turned towards the dark end of the vent.

And then she saw it — a pale, rounded shape emerging from the shadows. Hollow eyes. Broken teeth.

A skull.

The massive thing tumbled end over end, scraping through the narrow metal tunnel, gathering speed.

Clara’s eyes went wide. “Oh, SHIT SHIT SHIT!”

She twisted around, scrambling for the exit as the skull crashed toward her, clanging like thunder inside the vent. She dove out just as it burst through the opening behind her — smashing through the grate and rolling across the hallway floor, coming to a stop mere inches from her.

It was enormous, taller than her entire body, its eye sockets staring blankly down at her. For a second she just froze, staring into those empty holes — dust spilling from its mouth like breath. Then the delayed shiver hit her, and she stumbled backward, heart pounding so hard she could hear it in her ears.

“Nope—nope, nope, nope!” she gasped, shaking her head violently. “I’m done! That’s it! I’ll take my chances with the owls thank you very much!”

She turned and sprinted down the long hall, her scarf whipping behind her. The floorboards creaked beneath her boots as she ran, the massive shadows of furniture sliding past like monsters watching her from the dark.

Her breathing turned ragged; every sound — every whisper of the wind — felt like something chasing her. All she wanted now was out.

After several heart-pounding minutes she could see the front entrance looming ahead: the colossal wooden doors she originally wanted to enter through when they first arrived. The cracks beneath them glowed faintly with outside moonlight. Freedom.

“Almost there…” she muttered between gasps, sprinting the last few steps. She tore across the faded carpet, lungs burning, her tiny boots sinking slightly into the layers of dust that muffled her frantic steps. She could see the faint line of moonlight under the front door — that precious strip of silver freedom — getting closer and closer.

Then, with an earsplitting creeeeeak, the massive door began to move on its own.

Clara froze mid-step, eyes wide. “...Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

The door groaned open, a gust of cold night air sweeping through the hall, scattering dust like mist. Towering shapes appeared in the doorway — two human teenagers, a boy and a girl, both holding their phones out like flashlights. Their sneakers squelched against the carpet as they stepped inside, laughing nervously.

The girl nudged the boy with her elbow. “See? I told you it’s not haunted. It’s just… old.”

The boy grinned, shining his light around. “Yeah, right. You’re just saying that so you don’t chicken out first.”

Clara just stared up at them, her expression twitching between disbelief and annoyance.
“Oh my god, they’re actually doing the horror movie thing,” she whispered bitterly to herself. “Who even still does that nowadays!?”

The girl gasped as the beam of her phone caught the skull lying across the hall. “Whoa! Okay, that’s actually kinda freaky!”

The boy laughed nervously. “Probably fake. Or like… part of a Halloween display.”

“Yeah? Then why does it smell real?”

While they argued, Clara gulped and began to ran back from whence she came as the teenagers stomped directly down the hall in her path. Each of their steps thudded like meteors beside her – the vibrations sending tiny bursts of dust flying up into her face. She coughed, ducked, and rolled as a shoe slammed down barely an inch away. She was putting all of her ‘Borrower training’ to the task to evade being crushed under the sneakers.

“Watch where you’re going, you giants!” she hissed under her breath, scrambling out of the way just as the boy shifted his foot again. “I don’t know what’s scarier anymore, them or the house!”

She darted beneath a torn strip of carpet, her scarf trailing behind her like a shadow. As she crouched there, catching her breath, she glanced out and saw the girl pointing toward the staircase.

“Let’s go check upstairs,” the teen said, excitement mixing with fear. “That’s where people say they hear noises.”

“To think they just left all this junk still here,” the boy exclaimed walking up towards a nearby table to play with a vase.

Unfortunately, this was right in the path of Clara’s hiding spot, forcing her to use all her available strength to leap out of the way. She tried to dart away again, but one wrong slip flung her backwards, landing right on the rubber toe of his shoe — and before she could even think about escaping, his foot lifted.

The two teenagers had barely taken a couple steps into the house before the smell hit them — that thick, musty odor of mold, rot, and insect husks. The girl scrunched her nose, sweeping her phone’s light over the floor.

“Ugh, what is all this?” she muttered. “It’s like… a bug graveyard.”

The boy leaned closer to one of the cracked shells. “Whoa. These are huge. What kind of bug even is that?”

Clara clung desperately to the laces of the boy’s sneaker, her entire body bouncing with each step. “Perfect. Just perfect,” she muttered, gripping tighter as his shoe thudded down again. “From rats and ghosts to taxi-ing on some dumb kids. This night’s a masterpiece.” She was stuck hitching a ride whether she liked it or not. “If this is how Borrowers get exposed to the world I will never live it down…”

The girl shone her light toward the walls, frowning. “Did you hear that?”

A low rustle pulsed through the boards — faint but steady, like something crawling just beneath the surface. The boy straightened immediately, his voice cracking. “O-okay, that was definitely something alive.”

Clara felt the vibration, too, traveling up through the sole she stood on. Her heart jumped. “Oh no,” she whispered, eyes darting around. “That’s not just ‘something’. That’s a lot of somethings.”

The girl backed toward him. “Maybe it’s rats?”

The boy forced a laugh. “Rats, yeah, sure. Not ghosts, not cursed house demons. Just normal—AH!”

A massive cockroach darted out from under the carpet near their feet, scuttling across the floor. The girl shrieked, hopping backward — directly slamming her sneaker down inches from Clara’s perch. Dust exploded outward, and the boy stumbled, swinging his foot in reflex.

Clara yelped as her world turned into a blur — the sudden motion flinging her off balance. She tumbled along the edge of the sneaker’s sole, hanging on for dear life as the boy waved his arms.

“Jesus!” he shouted, kicking his leg at the scurrying pest.

“Stop moving!” the girl yelled, trying not to panic.

Clara managed to cling tight to a lace knot, hanging there as the sneaker rocked wildly. “Would you two please calm down!?” she yelled — though, to them, her voice was nothing but a faint squeak under the sound of their panic.

The boy finally steadied himself, panting. “Okay, okay… maybe we should just check upstairs and get this over with.”

“Fine,” the girl said, brushing her hair back with trembling hands. “But if something else moves, I’m out.”

Almost immediately as they stood in front of the stairs, they each let out egregious “YELP!”’s as dozens of spiders of various sizes descended dramatically from the highest floors, webs spraying all about.

The teens shrieked and stumbled backward, the beam of their phone flashlight shaking wildly as they rushed away, the house suddenly coming alive with movement. The girl screamed as an array of centipedes scuttled past her sneaker, their countless legs tapping against the dusty tiles. The boy swore under his breath, trying to hold his composure, only for the swarm of moths to burst from the kitchen curtains, fluttering around their faces.

The walls groaned as if something massive was crawling within them — the muffled squeals of rats and scraping of claws echoing everywhere. Clara clung to the edge of the boy’s shoelace, trying not to be flung off as he jerked around in panic. From her size, the chaos was cataclysmic — centipedes writhing across the floor like living cables, spiders continuing to pour down from the stairs in thick clusters, and the moths slamming into the light like soft, dusty meteors.

Just then, when they assumed the only thing they were going to deal with was dirty pests, they heard a haunted “OooooooOOOooooooooOOOOOooooooOOOooo…” vibrating from the walls.

The boy whipped his head toward the vent, his flashlight trembling in his grip. “What the hell was that?” he whispered, his voice cracking slightly despite his attempt to sound composed.

The girl shook her head quickly, eyes wide. “No, no, no—tell me you heard that too. That wasn’t—like—that wasn’t a rat, right?”

A long, low moan echoed again through the metal ductwork, warbling and hollow, like something was dragging itself through the vents. Dust fluttered from the grates as if the whole system was breathing.

The boy swallowed hard, trying to rationalize. “Okay, okay—it’s just… the house settling. Or like, some raccoon got stuck or something—”

“Raccoons don’t moan!” the girl snapped, clutching his arm.

Clara, still crouched on the sneaker, cringed at the sound too. Her tiny heart was pounding as she pressed herself flat, her survival instincts kicking in.

When another louder, almost human-like groan echoed out, the teens both yelped and instinctively hugged each other tight, their phones clattering to the floor. “Oh my god, oh my god, this place is haunted!” the girl squealed.

“You’re the one who said this was just an urban legend!” the boy shot back, voice cracking.

Clara rolled her eyes despite her fear. “Great,” she muttered under her breath, “nothing like being stuck in a horror cliché with a couple of walking tropes.”

The moaning grew louder. And closer. And then—SHUN.

The air split with twin screams as a headless corpse dropped before the teens—its neck frayed and hollow, its limbs jerking like a marionette as invisible strings guided it downward. The thing swayed with an awful creak, the faint shimmer of spider silk glinting in the flashlight beam.

Then came the bat—swooping low from the rafters, its leathery wings cutting through the dust like a storm. It screeched and circled wildly, close enough that the wind from its wings sent cobwebs flying across the hall. That was all it took.

“NOPE—NOPE, WE’RE OUT—WE’RE OUT!” the boy shouted, nearly tripping over himself as he bolted for the front door.

The girl didn’t even argue, reclaiming their phones and clutching his sleeve, sprinting alongside him. Their sneakers thundered across the floorboards, echoing through the old mansion as the ‘corpse’ dangled and the bat swooped again.

Clara, gripping desperately onto the edge of the boy’s shoe, lost her hold mid-run. She yelped, tumbling into the carpet as they blasted through the front door and disappeared into the night.

The heavy silence that followed was almost worse than the chaos—only the creak of the swinging corpse, the scurrying of bugs, and the faint flutter of bat wings filled the air. Clara sat up, coughing in the dust, her tiny frame trembling as she wiped grit from her face.

She glanced up at the eerie spectacle—the puppet-like corpse twisting slowly above her—when somewhere high above, a faint giggle echoed through the rafters. She froze, her heart still pounding from the chaos—until she recognized the distinct, smug tones.

“Ha! Did you see their faces? They ran faster than Sally after a cookie!” Lyra howled from the chandelier, swinging upside down by a chain with her arms spread wide like some mischievous acrobat.

Ari’s laughter followed from the other side of the room, her body draped across a tangle of webbing like a lounging phantom. “I have to admit… that was beautifully dramatic,” she purred, brushing dust from her shoulder. “Didn’t expect to get strung up in my own art, but I’ll allow it.”

From the hall, Ivy appeared atop a massive rat like a knight returning from battle, her kaiju armor cracked but glowing faintly in the gloom. “T-took me ages to tame this guy,” she called proudly, patting the rat’s head as it sniffed the air. “We uh… didn’t mean to cause more trouble.”

And then came a rolling thud—Sally, tumbling out of a vent like a bowling ball, landing in a puff of dust and laughing wildly. “It was me! I was the ghost!” She pulled out a large toilet paper roll, blowing into it to replicate the “Oooooooooooooooo”’s she had just released. “Best haunted house ever!”

Clara just stared at them all, jaw slack. “Oh for shits sake! Ugh—you—you all planned this?!”

The four Borrowers exchanged guilty looks, then burst out laughing.

Lyra waved her hand dismissively. “Nah, not at first, darling. We actually all got snatched or spooked by something earlier. But when we found out it was all the same culprit, we figured—why not play along?”

Before Clara could even ask who ‘the culprit’ was, a shadow loomed beside her.

The air stirred as the large bat landed gracefully on the carpet, folding its wings like a cloak. Perched atop its back was a silhouetted figure that revealed itself through the illuminated light—a Borrower woman.

Her form was wrapped in patchy, oversized cloaks of stitched cloth, her hair tangled but gleaming silver under the moonlight that filtered in. She looked like she had stepped out of a gothic storybook, her pale, yellow eyes gleaming with mischief and age.

“‘Vell, ‘Vell,” the woman spoke with a thick, rolling accent—something Eastern European-ish, maybe. “It’s nice to have some guests who do not scare easily. And of course, some that do, hm.”

The bat huffed, lowering its head respectfully as she dismounted.

Clara blinked up at her, still trembling. “So—ack—you’re… the ‘ghost’,” she said with huge quotation marks, “who lives here?”

The woman smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Da. I am the keeper of this place. My name is Meerenda. And you, tiny intruders… have just survived my haunted abode.”

Lyra chuckled under her breath. “Survived, huh? I think you mean conquered.”

“Okay, yeah, sure, sure, whatever. More Borrower BS nonsense. Because of course that’s all that’ll ever be for me!” Clara exhaled, adding a new trauma experience to the endless list. “So, care to elaborate on what someone of your ‘calibre’ is doing here?”

Meerenda ran a gloved hand over the bat’s head, its leathery wings flexing under her touch as she looked over the group with quiet satisfaction.

“I ‘ave been here a long, long time,” she said, her accent thick and deliberate, like each word carried a story of its own. “Since before even the last humans, ‘vell, stopped residing here. Many said it was haunted.” A wry smile curled across her pale lips. “They ‘vere right, of course—but not by ghosts.”

She walked past them slowly, her small boots barely stirring the dust, the candlelight flickering along her tattered cloak. The Borrowers and Clara followed her with their eyes, a strange reverence filling the room.

“I tend to it all,” she continued softly. “Every cobweb, every broken frame, every shadow in the hall. I keep it all alive. You see, the more eerie it feels, the fewer fools come wandering in. Humans… Borrowers… treasure hunters. They all want to take something.” Her gaze flicked briefly to Lyra, who awkwardly hid a necklace she managed to snag behind her back. “So I make sure ‘ey leave with nothing.”

She gestured upward, and from the rafters above, the shapes of massive moths began to descend—soft, ghostly wings stirring the air, their eyes reflecting the dim light. “‘Ze creatures here, they understand. The moths, they keep my secrets in the dark. The centipedes and the rats, they watch the halls. The spiders, my old friends, keep the rooms sealed.”

“And the bat?” Ari asked, tilting her head, eyeing the beast beside her with something like respect.

Meerenda’s expression softened. “Ah… Vee. He came to me one winter night, half-dead, wings torn. I fed him. He never left. Now he keeps me company… and keeps the others in line.”

The bat gave a low, rumbling chirp as if in affirmation.

Sally, still brushing cobwebs off her head, gawked. “So you train bugs and bats to chase people out? That’s awesome! And what is up with those traps! I thought I got swallowed by a ghost raccoon! But nope. It was bedsheets on strings. I recommend using wheelies next time!” The girl let out that let one in an exaggerated whisper, which Meerenda playfully responded with a wink.

Lyra grinned, perching on a bit of broken chandelier. “Yeah, M. These are all far more elaborate traps I’ve seen from any Borrower. You still do got style. Nearly fooled me thinking I was cursed by that damn doll.”

Meerenda chuckled lightly, a dry, haunting sound. “Not cursed. Just… tested. Only the clever survive my home. The bold. The desperate. The ones who belong here. Most Borrowers are actually the typical scaredy buggers when ya throw enough at ‘em. Some Borrowers like your friends here turn out to be the special fun kind to give you a challenge. Almost all humans go out screaming when you toss a couple crawlies at ‘em.” Her piercing gaze drifted over the group, finally settling on Clara. “And then you… you do not belong here, do you, little human?”

Clara stiffened, feeling every word crawl down her spine. Ugh, of course no more pretence, already doing this. “I—uh—well let’s just say I kind of got… dragged into this… And I don’t mean just this,” she exaggeratingly motioned around the house, “I mean THIS.” She motioned to her own shrunken body.

Meerenda stepped closer, her cloak whispering against the ground. “Mm. I can see that. You smell of the outside world. Of warmth and comfort. It is not a scent that survives long in a place like this.” She then dramatically bowed her head, taking her hand and giving it a kiss. “But you did give me the opportunity I would’ve never imagined, to spook a tiny human. So thank you for providing this indulgment.”

The room fell quiet, all eyes on Clara as Meerenda’s shadow loomed over her. Clara herself felt awkward, but with the amount of intimacy she had to deal from just Lyra alone on a daily basis, this was somewhat a breath of fresh air. “S-sure… uh, ‘my lady’?”

Meerenda gave a faint, almost mischievous smirk. “Looks like no one will be feed to Vee. At least… not tonight.”

Sally audibly gulped. Ari just laughed, low and impressed. Ivy gripped her kaiju armour tighter, muttering, “...I’m starting to see why no one comes here.”

Lyra’s playful grin then turned sharp the moment Meerenda gave her that smirk — the kind that only two people with history could share.

She landed, brushing off the dust from her nurse outfit and tapped right next to Meerenda. “I knew you had a thing for dirt and grime, but I never would’ve pecked ya to hole up in this kind of mausoleum, huh M? I’d have thought you finally decayed along with the drapes.”

Meerenda’s laugh was low and velvety. “And I’d have thought you would’ve settled your appetite by now, dear Lyra. But here you are, still nibbling at anything warm and breathing.”

The others watched them with wide eyes as tension hung thick in the dusty air — half venom, half nostalgia. Clara just groaned, dragging a hand down her face, immediately piecing together the connection. “Ugh. Of friggin course you two know each other. Why am I not surprised? How many flings is that by now?”

Lyra winked at her. “What can I say, Clara? I’ve been around.”

Meerenda turned with a sly, knowing smile. “Indeed. Around every heart you can’t quite keep.” Her eyes gleamed like candlelight through amber glass. “Ours was… spirited, once. Until she decided she preferred stealing more than protecting the treasures already amassed.”

Lyra smirked back. “You make it sound like you didn’t enjoy it while it lasted, witch.”

“Oh, I enjoyed it very much.” Meerenda took a slow step closer, letting the folds of her ragged cloak trail behind her. “But I learned long ago that not every haunting should stay invited.”

Their eyes met for one long, simmering second — amusement and challenge flickering in equal measure — before Ari stepped forward, brushing off the dust from her webbed corset.

“My, my,” she murmured, smirking. “I see why she kept you a secret. You’ve got presence, darling.”

Meerenda’s gaze drifted over Ari, taking in the glossy black hair, the vampire outfit, the confident tilt of her posture. “And you…” she cooed, “you look like a nightmare that learned how to dress itself. A proper gothic enchantress. And that web work of yours? Simply immaculate.”

Ari chuckled, stepping close enough for their bodies to make contact. “You flatter me. I do admire your look, though — tragic, timeless, and a little unhinged. It’s very me on a bad night.”

The two of them traded knowing smiles, faces so close their nozes practically grazed each other, the air practically pulsing with unspoken temptation.

Lyra groaned dramatically, waving her hands. “Oh, fantastic. Please, by all means, flirt with the haunted recluse who used to hex my hair straight every time I fell asleep.”

Meerenda smirked over her shoulder. “Maybe she has better taste than you did.”

Ari tilted her head, fangs flashing faintly in the candlelight. “Oh, I definitely do. Maybe we should have a little… private séance later. Compare notes.”

Meerenda’s grin turned languid, her bat stretching its wings behind her. “Mmm. Perhaps I’ll even let you see the attic. It’s where I keep my favourite desires.”

Sally leaned toward Ivy and whispered, “Okay, so are they flirting, fighting, or about to duel to the death?”

Ivy whispered back, “Y-yes.”

Clara just sighed, rubbing her temple. “You can do each other on your own time, thank you. For now, I need to freeze myself in an ice bath, badly.”

---

The Borrower group emerged from a crack in the front door, stepping out onto the wide, creaking patio, the wind rustling the nearby dead trees.

“Hey, uh, just so you know,” Clara awkwardly started, “I’m kinda sorry about your bugs I had to kill in there, but also not, because, like, they came to me first. Nothing personal.”

“None taken, darling,” Meerenda responded, leaning casually against her bat’s wing, offering that sly half-smile again. “Most of the lovelies here actually desire a good death more than anything. Falling in battle to a warrior such as you would’ve given them the most immense pleasure.”

“…Riiiiiiight… I don’t know if that makes things better or worse…” Clara shook her head, just accepting the continued weirdness of the situation.

“You could all stay the night, if you wish,” she purred. “There’s room enough in the cellar—plenty of old dollhouses, soft cloth, a few warm places if you’re clever.”

Clara, already looking down to the first step, shook her head fast enough to whip her scarf. “Yeah, no thanks. I think I’ve had enough horror movie tropes for one evening.” She pointed a thumb out towards the street. “We’ll… you know. Just, uh, take the long way home.”

Meerenda chuckled lowly, her voice echoing like velvet in the dusty air. “As you wish. But next time, bring better offerings. The house likes to be… entertained.”

“Right,” Clara muttered. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Meerenda approached each of the four Borrowers, whispering something secretly to each of them: Lyra had a surprisingly subtle blush, followed by sticking out her tongue playfully; Ivy covered the mouth of her kaiju suit, burrowing her enough her current emotion was completely hidden; Sally also let out a surprisingly uncommon confused reaction, but followed it up with a more straight forward thumbs up; and Ari’s eyes spoke a thousand words, wiggling them seductively accompanied by a ‘healthy’ biting motion.

With that, Lyra led the way down the stairs into the cold October night. The yard loomed like a fog-soaked field, the old house creaking behind them — a living thing settling into silence once more.

Sally stretched her arms as they started down the cracked stone path. “That was amazing! I got dragged under a bed by some creepy shadow lady, and it turned out to be real! Halloween’s awesome. Also thanks for grabbing my shoe there!”

Lyra laughed, swinging her nurse cap off her head. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect my old flame to still have that much bite. Maybe we should do haunted houses more often. I did manage to sneak a couple gifts away from dear ol’ M as well.” She admired the necklace and a particularly shiny marble she had in her satchel.

Ivy, trudging beside Clara, looked down at the dirt. “I don’t know… I got rat-napped. Twice. And my armour smells like moldy socks. A-also, thanks for remembering my spear Clara.”

Ari smirked from behind, gliding effortlessly despite her long vampire dress. “Please. You should be grateful—most people don’t get to meet a legend and survive. Meerenda’s one of the few who can keep a house like that alive without the humans noticing, and drive away all the ones who do. That’s power.”

Clara frowned slightly, rubbing the side of her arm. “Yeah, about that…” She hesitated, then looked back toward the looming, decrepit silhouette of the mansion. “Those traps, the noises, the bugs—fine, sure. But… that skull I saw rolling down the hall? That was real. And the body on the strings?”

The others stopped walking.

Clara swallowed. “I… think that was, too.”

The night seemed to hush around them — only the faint rustle of the wind through the weeds.

Remembering the feeling she herself felt upon seeing it earlier, Lyra gave a light shrug, though her smile had lost some of its bite. “She’s always had… unconventional decorations.”

“Unconventional?” Clara blurted. “That was a corpse!”

Ari looked back at the house, her tone unnervingly calm. “She did say she keeps intruders away.”

Clara’s face paled a little. “…Oh my god.”

They stood in silence for a moment longer, the only sound the crickets chirping somewhere far off. She did say she lived there even before there were ‘no longer any humans around’. Was she there to bare witness to the person dying, letting it rot all alone. Or… did she…

“Borrowers have been living beneath human’s gazes for who knows how long. A being that cunning. That strong. That impulsive. Living in your home without you ever knowing. Sure, you may be the ‘scary one’ to most of them. But the moment you’re too much trouble. What’s stopping the remaining few from cutting out the problem. How could you ever stop a creature from striking you down, that you don’t even know exists…” A voice from the recent past echoes deeply in the tiny human’s mind…

Finally, Clara sighed and shook her head, starting forward again. “You know what?” she muttered, half to herself. “Forget ghosts. Borrowers are scarier than any haunting could ever be.”

Lyra gave a teasing grin, falling into step beside her. “Aw, you really think so?”

“Not a compliment,” Clara deadpanned.

Sally grinned wide, running ahead with her mismatched costume halves flapping behind her. “Come on! Race ya home before the raccoons actually show up!”

As they disappeared into the overgrown yard, the house behind them seemed to exhale — windows glinting faintly like tired eyes — before settling back into stillness.

And for a moment, far in the topmost window, Meerenda stood watching them go, a faint smile on her face as her bat curled around her shoulders. “Scarier than ghosts, hmm?” she whispered to herself. “Good.”