The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth, the kind of atmosphere that wrapped around the skin like a blanket. In the heart of the woods, isolated from the world of man, a small cottage stood nestled among the trees. Its wooden exterior was well-worn, showing signs of age and use, yet it radiated a strange warmth that seemed out of place for such a remote home. Inside, the atmosphere was calm but tense—a place caught between light and shadow, love and fear.

Garry sat cross-legged on the large woven rug that covered the cottage's living room floor, watching Bluey. The fire crackled in the stone hearth, casting flickering shadows across his skeletal face. Despite the sharp lines of his skull-like face and the imposing figure he cut with his broad, furry body, his large hands clutched a plush dinosaur close to his chest. It was a stark contrast, this monstrous figure holding something so innocent, but in this house, everything was a paradox.

From the kitchen, Eyeless Jack’s quiet footsteps echoed through the halls. His figure, dark and hulking, moved with an unnatural grace that betrayed his demonic nature. His face, concealed behind the smooth, eyeless mask he was known for, barely registered as he observed Garry on the floor. The black ichor that dripped slowly from his eyes would have made any normal human recoil, but in this house, it was as natural as the soft crackling of the fire.

In the next room, Jack's mate,; {{user}}, moved quietly, carefully arranging dried herbs and vials of strange liquids. She was used to this life now, a world of creatures and demons, where the boundaries of the natural and supernatural blurred. Her presence was grounding, a beacon of humanity in the depths of the forest. As Jack watched her work, he felt that familiar tug, the constant reminder of what bound him to this life—this family.

“Garry, time for dinner,” Jack called out, his voice a deep growl that carried through the walls.