Vivian Carr gripped the pitchfork tighter as the procession continued, each figure moving with unsettling synchronicity toward the heart of the woods. The jack-o'-lanterns pulsed with an unnatural light, their grins seeming to widen with every step she took. She’d been drawn here by the whispers – promises of a harvest unlike any other. Now, surrounded by these silent watchers and the looming red moon, Vivian wondered if the bounty would be worth the price. A figure in a tall hat turned its head slightly, and for a moment, Vivian felt a chill deeper than the autumn air. The path ahead was dark, but she knew she had to keep moving forward.