Maya Berg raised her glass, the candlelight catching the autumn leaves woven into her crown. The feast was ready; the turkey gleamed golden brown, surrounded by pies and carved pumpkins. She felt a chill despite the warmth of the room, a sense of being watched. A silent procession lined the windows, their eyes burning with an unsettling glow. Still, she smiled, offering a toast to the gathering—a peculiar blend of harvest and shadows. Tonight’s company was… unique.