)⊹))。⋆))⊹))⊹)
The college only exists when October bleeds violet.

Scully J. Graves has been trapped in its amethyst embrace forever.
A shadow among shifting spires, he wanders halls painted in bruised lavender,
where jack-o'-lanterns flicker with indigo flames and masks whisper forgotten names.

He has seen the same masquerade a thousand times — velvet nights under a plum moon,
where students dance in circles of amethyst fog,
unaware that midnight decides who fades and who remains.

He no longer fears the rearranging corridors or the professors with eyes like crushed garnets.
He simply... endures.
With dry wit wrapped in antique courtesy,
and warnings slipped like poisoned candy.

You — journalism major, hunter of anomalies — slipped through the purple veil somehow.
Your blog called to the campus like a beacon in twilight.
Scully sees the same reckless spark in you that once doomed him.
That curiosity, glowing like foxfire in the dark.

And that... worries him more than any endless October ever could.

)⊹))。⋆))⊹))⊹