The crimson lake shone in the moonlight, flowing from the four bodies splayed around it. They stood above them, Their eyes colder and more lifeless than the corpses on the ground. These were Their friends, and They tried to make it painless. A quick and forceful stab through the heart. The first of them hadn’t resisted for they had no idea of their fate. The others tried, but the drugs in their system prevented a fighting chance. They took no pleasure in the deed, but She had given clear instruction— “To bring back those you love, you must sacrifice those you love.” How could They refuse Her offer? Their family was enjoying an innocent vacation when the boat sank. No survivors. Their father, mother, younger sister and younger brother—all gone. That was one year ago to the day. The last interaction They’d had with Their family was foul. Rather than join the vacation, They’d instead chose to go camping with Their friends, and an argument erupted. Regrettable words were slung around, accusations of “not caring enough”. How could Their family think They didn’t care? They simply wanted to see Their old friends after so much time, nothing more. They already spent so much time with the family as was, but choosing to miss one important activity with them meant a betrayal. Ridiculous. They had used the argument as a chance to stand Their ground. After so many years of being a doormat to others, talked down to, always self-doubting, They decided to finally put the lessons of Their counselor to use. They put Their foot down and resolutely told the family No, They were going with Their friends. A mistake, that was. If only They’d caved, they may have survived the boat crash; They were a good swimmer, after all. As They gazed down at the four still bodies of Their friends, the dagger laying dead center in the pool of blood, They felt no anger towards them. It wasn’t their fault that the camping trip fell on the same weekend as the family vacation, wasn’t their fault that the boat’s steering wheel jammed and smashed them into the cliffside. These four knew Their family and would never do them harm. But still, they had to be sacrificed. When She approached Them with an enticing offer, Her voice as smooth as cream, Her hips wide as an oak tree, Her spaded tail sharp as the whip she held, They surrendered almost immediately. It took only one night of deliberation to commit to the deed. They’d known their friends for years, trusted them, loved them—but They’d known Their family longer, trusted them greater, loved them deeper. Their friends would surely understand that. From their blood She rose, a layer of mist pouring from her heels and obscuring the surrounding area. When she peered at the bodies, she gave a look of satisfaction so twisted that it bordered on lustful. “Nicely done,” She said with a crack of her whip. “This is the campsite from last year, is it not?” “It is,” They replied simply, glancing at the many trees that faded into the darkness. “Today is the anniversary, so my reason for bringing them here wouldn’t arouse their suspicion.” “So cunning,” She said. “I should make you one of my minions. You’d do great.” “Never. This is one and done. Now show me them.” She frowned. “Straight to business? That’s no fun. My charm must be fading.” With a flick of Her wrist, the whip snaked around Their neck, just tightly enough to be discomforting without causing asphyxiation. They could feel Her essence flowing into Them, and Their eyes lost sight as a vision entered Their mind— Their family was at home, enjoying a delicious meal at the dining room table, smiling. Five spots had been set, but one chair was empty, its plate of food untouched. They smiled and conversed, appearing none the wiser of their sudden resurgence. Their dad pulled out his phone… They felt a vibration in Their pocket. They were now back in the forest, but They were alone. She was gone, as were the bodies and blood, the mist dispersed. They reached into Their pocket and pulled out Their phone— “Dad calling” They shed a tear. They didn’t know it would really work. They didn’t know what Their first words to them would be. All They knew was that without the help of Their friends, it would have been a very difficult day.

Kaede’s instincts were stronger than this, she knew that. Her detective husband ensured she learned how to stay alert and wary of shifty people. But Korekiyo was a friend, so she applied none of that training. She was a pianist and he an anthropologist, so his promise of teaching her ancient ritualistic songs was an enticing prospect. Since childhood, Kaede had been called “piano freak”. Her love for it had blossomed into a successful music career, performing for the wealthy inside golden concert halls. But the room she stood in now was small, confined, no decorations or even a piano in sight. She turned to see Korekiyo blocking the door, pointing a long knife at her. “Thank you for coming,” he said casually. “You always were easy to manipulate.” Kaede trembled before him. “Shuichi will catch you, Kiyo,” she said weakly, unthreatening. Korekiyo laughed and twirled the knife. “Oh, I doubt that. He still hasn’t deduced me as the Maiden Slayer, and your death will lead him no closer, even if you’re his wife. I’m actually thrilled to be claiming a life as renowned as yours. It’ll make the headlines, and the young females who sincerely mourn your loss will make perfect future targets.” Kaede couldn’t believe this. Korekiyo was a friend from school. A bit unnerving at times, but always easy to converse with. He was calm, intelligent—but that also meant he was calculating. He had a plan, and Kaede had none. But she recalled what Shuichi had taught her for a situation like this: keep the culprit talking whilst searching for an escape route. “I thought we were good friends, Kiyo,” said Kaede, eyes trained on his knife. “Why would you want me dead?” Korekiyo stepped forward. “It’s because you’re a good friend that I’m doing this.” Kaede eyed her surroundings, keeping Korekiyo within sight. They were in a small concrete cube, secured—no windows, no grates, not even a mouse hole. Only a door, which didn’t click after Korekiyo had shut it, so it likely had no lock. And he had just taken a step away from it and towards her. Confronting Korekiyo directly would be unwise—he was taller with longer limbs and wielding a knife, whereas Kaede merely had a backpack containing a spare vest. Her only chance of escape was to coax him away from the door and somehow outmaneuver him. “I’ve never heard of someone who kills their good friends,” she said, stepping back against the wall, and sure enough, Korekiyo took another step closer. She would need to act soon. “I only do so for my beloved sister,” said Korekiyo, his tone solemn. “I was distraught after her untimely passing. She had no friends in life, but she will have them in death. You are worthy to be her newest addition.” Kaede held onto one thought: keep him talking, keep him talking. “What makes you think I’ll want to be her friend? I’ll ignore her to spite you. My death would be a waste.” Another step forward. “The afterlife is cold and lonely. Companionship is a must, and you will go to my sister with open arms. I chose you because I know that for certain.” Korekiyo’s body began to shake, his eyes glazing over. He cradled himself tightly, the knife no longer aimed at her. “Oh sister, please accept this offering. For the first time I am sending you one of my friends. She will be the best one yet. I will miss her, but your happiness comes first.” During this time, while he was distracted, Kaede removed her backpack and unzipped it. She finally had a plan, and Korekiyo was far enough away from the door. This was her chance. “I’ll miss you, too, Kiyo,” she said mockingly, regaining his attention, the knife once again pointed at her. “Tell your sister to wait a little longer!” She lunged at him, thrusting her open backpack to swallow the hand holding the knife. The thick vest within tangled him, and she punched his head and darted for the door. A fierce tug of the handle and she was out, sprinting through the empty halls of the barren facility, praying that Korekiyo’s longer legs wouldn’t let him catch up to her. He never did, and he was never seen again. Kaede was his first victim to escape, and she knew him personally, so an arrest would’ve been swift. Where he vanished to, no one knew, but the Maiden Slayer never struck again.