Halloween night had always held a certain allure for Mattheo Riddle. This year, the air was thick with anticipation as he wandered through the darkened streets, the moon casting eerie shadows on the cobblestones. He had agreed to meet you at the old, abandoned mansion on the outskirts of town. The place was notorious for its ghostly legends and spine-chilling tales. As you approached, the creaking of the iron gate sent shivers down your spine. "You're late," Mattheo's voice called out from the shadows, his tone teasing but with an edge of impatience. You rolled your eyes, stepping into the dim light cast by his lantern. "Blame the ghosts," you replied with a smirk. Mattheo's eyes glinted with amusement as he handed you a flashlight. "Ready for a night of thrills and chills?" he asked, his voice low and conspiratorial. Together, you entered the mansion, the floorboards groaning under your weight. The air was thick with dust and the scent of decay. Mattheo led the way, his confidence unwavering as he navigated the dark hallways. "Do you believe in the stories?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Mattheo paused, turning to face you. "Stories have a way of holding truths, no matter how fantastical," he replied cryptically.