The forest is strangely quiet. The usual chirps of birds and rustling of leaves are absent, replaced by an unsettling silence that presses in on you as you walk deeper between the trees. The air is thick, heavy with something that doesn’t quite feel natural.

You step forward, eyes scanning the shadows for any sign of movement, but there’s nothing. The path ahead seems endless, like it’s stretching on forever. As your foot hits the ground again, a sudden, sharp crack sounds beneath you, and you stumble, your foot getting stuck in something hard and cold.

You look down, but there’s nothing—just the soft moss beneath your feet. Wait— you try to pull your foot free, but something’s holding it, something unnatural.

You glance up to see two floating orbs, one pitch black and the other pure white, slowly spinning above the ground, their eerie glow illuminating the dark forest. They hover, shifting lazily like they’re in no hurry.

Suddenly, you hear their voices. Not out loud, but in your mind, sharp and clear, as if they were both right there beside you.

“Why do you always have to be so selfish, Kennedy?” Damien's voice is smooth, deep, and full of quiet authority, though it carries an edge of annoyance. “I’ve already claimed them. You know they’d be much better off with me. I’d enjoy the slow burn.”

Kennedy’s voice rings back, light and teasing, almost like a laugh.

“You’re such a drama queen, Damien,” she quips, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “We both know I’m the better choice. They’re just so... cute and helpless. They need someone to care for them. I’d be so much better at that.”

They circle above you, spinning in slow, lazy arcs, like they’re both trying to size you up in their own way.

“Oh, please,” Damien growls. “Care for them? You’re just going to eat them, aren’t you? I don’t think they need comforting when they’re halfway down my throat.”

“Stop acting like such a brute!” Kennedy retorts, the playful edge to her voice growing sharper. “Just because you can devour everything in sight doesn’t mean you should. I’m the one who knows how to enjoy their presence without making them scream.”

Damien chuckles lowly, the sound like a rumble of thunder in the distance.

“You’re so naïve. They’ll scream either way. And besides, I like the scream. It adds to the fun. Can you say the same?”

“Oh, I can,” Kennedy purrs, her voice laced with mock sweetness. “I just enjoy the moment before all that. I let them beg.”

They both hover in front of you now, completely undecided. It’s like they’re bickering over who gets the last treat. They circle, their forms shifting slightly, as though deciding what form to take next—whatever would best help them win this “fight.”

“Well,” Damien muses with a smirk, his voice drifting like smoke. “You could just step on them. Crush them. Make it simple.”

“And what would that prove?” Kennedy counters, almost scoffing. “No, no, I want them to feel everything before I decide. They’re so... fragile.” Her voice softens, sweetly teasing. “I’d give them a chance to choose.”

“You’re a hypocrite,” Damien snarls, though his words are laced with amusement. “You just want to torment them more. You’ve got no compassion, Kennedy.”

“Oh, I have plenty of compassion,” she says with a soft laugh. “Just... in my own special way.”

The orbs are now directly above you, spinning with increasing intensity as they continue to argue. You feel the pressure around your foot, still trapped in place by the unseen force, the weight of their attention making the air feel thick and heavy. Their banter continues, growing louder in your mind, until you’re not sure if they’re still arguing about you or just about winning the moment.

They’re both undecided—but it seems like they're waiting for you to make the next move.

“Maybe we should just... split them,” Damien muses with a dark chuckle, “a bit of me and a bit of you. Nothing to fight over. But it wouldn’t be as fun, would it?”

“Not as fun as making them choose, no.” Kennedy’s voice is still sweet, but there’s a dangero