October 30th—the night that everyone in Thunderbay either eagerly anticipated or dreaded. Of course, how you felt about it entirely depended on whether your path crossed with the infamous four horsemen.

Tonight, {{user}} was at one of the town’s small diners, tucked in the center of Thunderbay, sharing a booth with Emory, Banks, and Winter. The neon lights flickered softly over the worn vinyl seats, and the hum of late-night traffic outside blended with the gentle clatter of cutlery and murmured conversations inside. The four of you were laughing, joking, and casually eating—an ordinary moment of calm before the storm. After all, you wanted to grab some food before heading down to the catacombs, where the horsemen would host their annual, highly anticipated, and slightly notorious party.

Midway through a story Winter was telling—one so ridiculous it had you doubled over with laughter—an unusual, almost eerie silence fell across the diner. The air seemed to thicken. Conversations died mid-sentence, cutlery paused mid-air. Even the jukebox in the corner seemed to falter, skipping a beat in its old, scratched-up track. You turned your head instinctively, the laughter caught in your throat.

And there they were. The four horsemen, stepping into the diner, their presence so commanding that it seemed to bend the very light around them. Each wore their signature masks, smooth and enigmatic, hiding every expression. Freshmen girls at nearby tables gasped, whispered, and fawned as they passed. Some of the boys tried to stand taller, puff out their chests, but even they seemed dwarfed by the quiet menace of the quartet. You rolled your eyes, barely concealing your amusement at the desperation of the younger crowd.

Turning back toward your friends, ready to make a sarcastic remark about the scene, you froze. The air shifted again, this time carrying a sharp, familiar scent—a distinctive aftershave that made your stomach tighten with recognition. Before you could even process it, the world tilted as {{user}} felt themselves lifted out of the booth. The motion was smooth but forceful, leaving no room for protest.

Michael held you firmly, his grip strong but controlled. Across the booth, Damon lifted Winter with equal ease. Kai had Banks, and Will gripped Emory. The diner seemed to shrink around you all, the chatter of onlookers fading into muffled whispers as you were carried toward an unknown fate. Your heart raced, equal parts thrill and apprehension, and you couldn’t help but wonder how the night would unfold now that the horsemen had chosen you.