Targa wandered through the haunted streets of the grand festival in Joya, taking in the sights and sounds of the various haunted houses from across Earthland. The crisp air was filled with a chill, not just from the evening breeze, but also from the eerie energies swirling around the festival grounds. Her pink eyes scanned the elaborate displays, briefly considering which house to explore next. The Seven-based haunted house caught her attention so she would visit them first, its entrance styled like a grand arena. The haunted gladiators inside were said to test one's courage, not just their physical strength.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she spotted someone familiar, a guildie she had seen back at Fairy Tail but had never met yet. They were partnered to come here. She seemed to speak to Targa saying we should get it over with. She seemed a little scared to her.

"Hello there, I recognized you from the guild, but we've never actually had the chance to chat before. I'm Targa, and there is nothing to worry about if you're scared. But if you want we can get through it quickly. There are a lot more stops after this though, if you are going to come me to the other haunts."

WC: 217

Targa smiled as Sam, full of spunk, stopped ahead into the haunted arena.. This place held more than just spirits...there was something unsettling about it, something that clung to the very bones of the building itself. Targa could feel it. Maybe it was her vampire nature, but she felt death. She followed behind, her demeanor calm, graceful as ever, but her pink eyes glinted with intrigue.

"I like your spirit, Sam," Targa said, her voice smooth and reassuring, "but remember, this place doesn't test strength. It tests what's inside. Or so I wager."

The arena grew darker as they stepped into the center, the vast coliseum standing tall around them echoing the battles long forgotten and remembered. Stone seats stretched upwards, and though no living soul sat there, it felt like thousands of invisible eyes watched their every move. A cold wind swept through, carrying faint whispers that sounded like distant battle cries. Everyone once in awhile the roar of a crowd would erupt after the sounds of a bloody splat could be heard.

As the two stood more inside, a low rumble echoed, and from the shadows of the stone floor, the first of the gladiator spirits emerged. The air grew heavier, as if gravity was heavier in the area and pressing down on them. as the figure took form; half-transparent, shimmering with an eerie, pale yellow green light. The color of infection on a battle wound. The ghostly gladiator was a towering figure, once a mighty warrior in life, but now twisted in death. Its skin, or what remained of it, hung from its body like tattered paper, revealing bones that seemed to ooze some found stench of pus. Hollow eyes stared out from a cracked skull, and in its hand, it wielded a rusted, bloodstained trident.

Its body dripped with ancient gore, remnants of battles fought long ago, and the stench of decaying flesh filled the air alongside the smell of pus. Its mouth hung open in a grotesque snarl, bits of muscle and tissue dangling as it spoke. A tooth would fly out and land near their feet, rotted and black. "You… have come to face us," the spirit rasped, its voice like gravel scraping against stone. "But strength alone will not save you. Fear lurks in the hearts of the brave, hidden beneath their bravado. Will you face it? Will you answer my challenge?"

Targa stood tall, her pink eyes narrowing slightly as she gauged the spirit. She had faced many things in her life, but this...this was something different. She thought this was supposed to be a event, something for fun, but this felt like a real ghost. Was it some high level illusion magic? She couldn't tell if it was. If it was, it was certainly cast by someone far stronger than her...maybe even guild master level in power. She had heard of a wizard from a couple generations ago that used illusion magic. Her magic, her illusions, her fake scenes where so real that they were rumored to be able to even fool a wizard saint. Maybe this was such an illusion...or maybe...it was just a real ghost after all and the two had stepped into something a bit more dangerous than they expected.

A challenge not of muscle or magic, but of the mind. The spirit raised one hand, parts of it's bones showing as rotted flesh almost slopped off it, pointing its rotting finger at the duo. "Here is my test. Fail, and you will be trapped here, forever wandering this arena like I do." The ghost's hollow eyes seemed to bore into their very souls as it spoke its riddle:

"I live in the darkness but never in the light,
I cause men to tremble though I am not alive.
I live inside you, a whisper in the night,
Tell me, what am I?"

The gladiator's voice lingered on the final words, its breathless whisper sending chills down Targa's spine. The riddle wasn't just a simple puzzle. It was clear that it was trying to force them to confront something deep within themselves. Fear. The kind of fear that exists in every heart, no matter how brave. Targa glanced at Samantha, waiting to see if the fiery redhead would charge ahead once more. This test wasn’t about muscles but it was about facing that which cannot be fought with fists. Would she face it? Would she look inward? How would Targa help out. She didn't know the answer to the riddle, but she could guess at it. Maybe they could collaborate about it before answering. Targa, as calm as ever, could feel the weight of the arena pressing down on them. That gravity was starting to become oppressive feeling, making it harder to think.

"Umm...What do you think Sam?"

WC: 827
TWC: 1044