Input: {"body":{"messages":[{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.","role":"system"},{"content":"write a short horror novel","role":"user","type":"text"}],"meta":{"integrationName":"zai","promptCategory":"zai:zai.text","promptSource":"zai:zai.text:default"},"model":"fast","signal":{},"temperature":0.7},"method":"POST","url":"https://api.botpress.cloud/v2/cognitive/generate-text"}

Output:
**The Whispering Pines**

*Chapter One – Arrival*

The letter came on a rainy Tuesday, its neat script promising a inheritance that could set Mara Whitfield’s life on a new course. Her great‑aunt, whom she’d never met, had died in the remote town of Harrow’s Edge, leaving her a sprawling estate perched on the edge of the Whispering Pines forest. The solicitor’s words were brief: “You are cordially invited to claim your inheritance. A small staff will assist you. Arrival expected within three days.”

Mara was a restless architecture student from Detroit, used to the hum of traffic and the clatter of steel. The idea of a solitary manor surrounded by ancient pines both intrigued and unnerved her. She packed a suitcase, a sketchbook, and a cheap digital recorder—just in case she needed to document anything odd—then boarded the old Greyhound that cut through the misty hills of northern Maine.

The road wound tighter as they approached Harrow’s Edge. The pines grew taller, their branches interlacing into a natural archway that seemed to swallow the sun. At nightfall, the headlights revealed a small, weather‑worn town square illuminated by a solitary streetlamp. The inn where she would stay for the first night was a stone‑built structure with an overhanging eave and a sign that read: *The Pine Needle*.

Mara checked in, handed the clerk a thin envelope of cash, and was handed a brass key that fit a heavy oak door. The innkeeper, a gaunt woman with moon‑pale skin, warned her in a hushed tone, “The forest is beautiful, Miss Whit… but it also remembers. Better not stay out after dark.”

Mara, scoffing, smiled polite. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

*Chapter Two – The Manor*

The next morning, a black carriage awaited her—its driver a stooped man with a face half‑covered by a soot‑blackened cap. He drove her through a gravel path that snaked between towering pines, the air growing colder with each mile. When the manor finally emerged from the mist, it was an imposing silhouette, its stone façade encrusted with ivy, windows like blind eyes staring into the void.

The front doors opened with a low groan. Inside, the entry hall was vast, with a grand staircase that spiraled upwards, a chandelier of tarnished crystal dangling from the ceiling like a frozen spider web. An empty fireplace crackled with dry ash. Somewhere above, a faint ticking echoed—perhaps a clock left untouched for years.

A butler named Edmund introduced himself, his voice smooth yet tinged with unease. “Miss Whitfield, welcome. Please, make yourself at home. The rest of the staff will attend to your needs. If you require anything, simply ring the service bell.” He placed a brass bell on a polished side table and vanished down a hallway.

Mara set her suitcase down, her eyes drawn to a large oil painting of a woman—elegant, with dark hair and an expression that seemed both welcoming and warning. The plaque read: *Eleanor Harrow, 1887*. The woman’s gaze seemed to follow Mara as she moved.

That evening, she explored the manor, notebook in hand, sketching the arches, the mold on the marble, the intricate woodwork. As she descended a narrow hallway lined with portraits, a sudden draft rattled the candle flames. The sound was subtle—a soft susurration, like whispers drifting through the walls.

She paused, listening. At first, she heard only the wind dancing among the pine needles outside. Then, faintly, a low, rhythmic humming rose from somewhere deep within the structure—a low, mournful lullaby that seemed older than the house itself.

Mara turned the recorder on, whispering, “Do you hear that?” The device emitted a low beep, then captured the humming, faint but unmistakable. She shivered and closed the recorder, pocketing it.

*Chapter Three – The Library*

On her second day, Mara discovered a grand library on the second floor, its floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with leather‑bound volumes. A massive oak desk sat in the centre, covered with a dust‑spotted map of the area. On the desk lay a leather‑bound journal, the initials “E.H.” stamped in gold.

She opened it, the pages yellowed with age. The first entry read:

*April 13, 1887 – The pines have begun to speak. Their voices rise at night, insistent, beckoning. Eleanor insists we should not listen.*

Further entries detailed Eleanor Harrow’s descent into obsession with the forest’s “whispering”—a term Eleanor used to describe the sounds that seemed to emanate from the trees, as if the woods possessed a consciousness. The journal was peppered with sketches of strange symbols etched into bark, and a recurring phrase: *“They remember.”*

Mara felt a chill roll across her skin. She glanced at the window, where, beyond the glass, the dense canopy of pine swayed, though no wind stirred the courtyard.

Later, as she flipped through the journal, she noticed a fresh entry dated ten days ago, ink still wet:

*June 9 – I hear them now. The pines whisper my name; they call for salvation. I fear they will not let me leave.*

She turned a page, and there, scrawled in a hurried hand, was a crude diagram: a circle of pine needles, a human figure in the center, arrows pointing outward, as if describing a ritual.

Mara’s heart thudded. She placed the journal back on the desk and rushed to the balcony, where an eerie glow painted the pine silhouettes in an uncanny amber light. The humming she had recorded earlier seemed louder now, resonating through the floorboards.

*Chapter Four – The Night Visitors*

That night, the manor fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the ticking of an unseen clock. Mara lay in the grand bedroom, its canopy bed draped with heavy curtains that muffled the world outside. She stared at the ceiling, listening for any sign of the humming.

At exactly midnight, a low creak echoed from the hallway. The brass service bell on the side table began to sway, as if nudged by an unseen hand. She sat up, the recorder in her hand, and whispered, “Who’s there?”

A soft rustle answered—a sound of pine needles brushing against each other, but amplified, as if the forest itself were sliding through the walls. The bed’s chandelier flickered, casting fleeting shadows that seemed to crawl along the ceiling.

Mara rose, her pulse racing, and stepped into the corridor, the floorboards groaning under her weight. The humming grew louder, a throbbing cadence that seemed to pulse in sync with her heartbeat.

She followed the sound to the library. The doors stood ajar, and within, the fireplace—previously cold—glowed with an unnatural, greenish flame. The flames licked the air, casting eerie silhouettes of the portraits on the walls. In the hearth, a single pine cone rested, its scales open, releasing a faint, phosphorescent mist.

Mara approached the fire, the recorder clenched in her fist. As she peered into the glow, the mist coalesced, forming a translucent figure—an outline of a woman in a Victorian dress, her face hidden in shadow. The figure raised a hand, pointing toward the journal on the desk.

The humming crescendoed into a guttural chant. Mara felt an invisible force tug at her thoughts, drawing her toward the desk. The journal’s pages fluttered, all the entries swirling, then stopping at a page she had never seen. It depicted a pentagram drawn in pine needles, with a central circle where a single human silhouette sat, arms outstretched, head bowed.

A voice, barely audible, seemed to echo from both the walls and the forest beyond: “Join us. Remember us.”

The figure dissolved into the flame, and the fire sputtered out, leaving only a cold ash pile. The humming ceased, replaced by a deafening silence.

Mara backed away, heart pounding, and fled the library, slamming the door behind her. She raced through the corridors, the brass bell ringing with every frantic step.

*Chapter Five – The Escape*

Morning broke with a thin, gray light that filtered through the towering pines. Mara, exhausted and pale, found herself at the manor’s main entrance. The butler, Edmund, stood stoically, his eyes fixed on the ground.

“I’m leaving,” she said, voice trembling. “I can’t stay here.”

Edmund said nothing, but he lifted a small key from his pocket and handed it to her. “The gate is locked. The woods… they won’t let you go easily.”

Mara turned, looking back at the manor. The windows seemed to watch her, the same eyes as the portrait of Eleanor Harrow. The pine trees outside swayed, their branches forming a canopy far denser than before, almost as if they were reaching down.

She ran down the gravel path toward the gate, but as she approached, the iron bars appeared fused to the wood, the hinges rusted shut. She tried to force the gate, but it would not budge. A soft, familiar hum rose from the trees, now a chorus of voices overlapping—whispers of longing, of warning, of something ancient demanding remembrance.

Panic surged. She opened the recorder and pressed play. The humming filled her ears again, but a new layer had been recorded: a soft choir of children’s laughter, followed by a low chant: *“We are the Pines. We never forget.”* The words made her skin crawl.

The pine needles at the base of the gate began to stir, forming a swirling vortex of green light. From the vortex emerged a figure—part human, part tree—its limbs elongated, bark smooth, eyes like hollowed pine cones that glowed faintly.

“The forest keeps its promises,” it whispered. “Your bloodline is bound to us. Those who inherit must remember.”

Mara’s breath hitched. She realized now that her great‑aunt had been an heir before her, that the inheritance was not a blessing but a curse—an unbroken chain binding each successor to the pines’ will.

She fell to her knees, tears streaming. “What do you want?” she sobbed.

The figure extended a hand, palm open. A single pine needle drifted into Mara’s hand, warm and pulsing. As she touched it, images flooded her mind: a woman in a night dress standing beneath the trees, chanting, a fire consuming the manor, a scream cut short by the rustle of leaves.

The figure spoke again, this time with a voice that sounded like wind through the boughs: “Remember us. Speak of us, and the curse will end. If you forget, we will take what we are owed.”

Mara, trembling, nodded. She took the pine needle and placed it into the recorder’s microphone, whispering, “The Pines remember. They are bound to blood, to memory.”

A soft chime rang, and the vortex collapsed, the gate unhinged. The pine trees receded, their silhouettes thinning as if exhaling. The figure dissolved into a cascade of leaves, leaving behind a single pine cone that fell at Mara’s feet.

She hurried through the now open gate, the manor fading behind her. As she ran, the pine cone cracked, revealing a tiny, ancient key within—a key that, she felt, would unlock something far beyond the manor’s doors.

*Epilogue – The Chronicle*

Mara returned to Detroit, her mind forever altered. She published a memoir, *The Whispering Pines*, a detailed account of the manor, the forest, and the pact she’d learned. She described the journal entries, the humming, and the night she met the forest’s spirit. She inserted the recordings into her book, allowing readers to hear the chant.

Her book became a cult classic, read by those who loved horror, folklore, and the macabre. Every year on the anniversary of her encounter, a small pine needle appeared on her windowsill, no matter where she traveled. She never forgot.

And deep in the forests of Harrow’s Edge, the trees still whisper. Those who listen closely might hear a faint humming, as if the woods are waiting, remembering a promise—waiting for the next heir to remember and speak.

*The End*

Temperature parameter is not supported for this model, ignoring temperature setting.


Input: {"body":{"input":{"messages":[{"content":"\"**The Whispering Pines**\\n\\n*Chapter One – Arrival*\\n\\nThe letter came on a rainy Tuesday, its neat script promising a inheritance that could set Mara Whitfield’s life on a new course. Her great‑aunt, whom she’d never met, had died in the remote town of Harrow’s Edge, leaving her a sprawling estate perched on the edge of the Whispering Pines forest. The solicitor’s words were brief: “You are cordially invited to claim your inheritance. A small staff will assist you. Arrival expected within three days.” \\n\\nMara was a restless architecture student from Detroit, used to the hum of traffic and the clatter of steel. The idea of a solitary manor surrounded by ancient pines both intrigued and unnerved her. She packed a suitcase, a sketchbook, and a cheap digital recorder—just in case she needed to document anything odd—then boarded the old Greyhound that cut through the misty hills of northern Maine.\\n\\nThe road wound tighter as they approached Harrow’s Edge. The pines grew taller, their branches interlacing into a natural archway that seemed to swallow the sun. At nightfall, the headlights revealed a small, weather‑worn town square illuminated by a solitary streetlamp. The inn where she would stay for the first night was a stone‑built structure with an overhanging eave and a sign that read: *The Pine Needle*.\\n\\nMara checked in, handed the clerk a thin envelope of cash, and was handed a brass key that fit a heavy oak door. The innkeeper, a gaunt woman with moon‑pale skin, warned her in a hushed tone, “The forest is beautiful, Miss Whit… but it also remembers. Better not stay out after dark.”\\n\\nMara, scoffing, smiled polite. “I’ll keep that in mind.”\\n\\n*Chapter Two – The Manor*\\n\\nThe next morning, a black carriage awaited her—its driver a stooped man with a face half‑covered by a soot‑blackened cap. He drove her through a gravel path that snaked between towering pines, the air growing colder with each mile. When the manor finally emerged from the mist, it was an imposing silhouette, its stone façade encrusted with ivy, windows like blind eyes staring into the void.\\n\\nThe front doors opened with a low groan. Inside, the entry hall was vast, with a grand staircase that spiraled upwards, a chandelier of tarnished crystal dangling from the ceiling like a frozen spider web. An empty fireplace crackled with dry ash. Somewhere above, a faint ticking echoed—perhaps a clock left untouched for years.\\n\\nA butler named Edmund introduced himself, his voice smooth yet tinged with unease. “Miss Whitfield, welcome. Please, make yourself at home. The rest of the staff will attend to your needs. If you require anything, simply ring the service bell.” He placed a brass bell on a polished side table and vanished down a hallway.\\n\\nMara set her suitcase down, her eyes drawn to a large oil painting of a woman—elegant, with dark hair and an expression that seemed both welcoming and warning. The plaque read: *Eleanor Harrow, 1887*. The woman’s gaze seemed to follow Mara as she moved.\\n\\nThat evening, she explored the manor, notebook in hand, sketching the arches, the mold on the marble, the intricate woodwork. As she descended a narrow hallway lined with portraits, a sudden draft rattled the candle flames. The sound was subtle—a soft susurration, like whispers drifting through the walls.\\n\\nShe paused, listening. At first, she heard only the wind dancing among the pine needles outside. Then, faintly, a low, rhythmic humming rose from somewhere deep within the structure—a low, mournful lullaby that seemed older than the house itself.\\n\\nMara turned the recorder on, whispering, “Do you hear that?” The device emitted a low beep, then captured the humming, faint but unmistakable. She shivered and closed the recorder, pocketing it.\\n\\n*Chapter Three – The Library*\\n\\nOn her second day, Mara discovered a grand library on the second floor, its floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with leather‑bound volumes. A massive oak desk sat in the centre, covered with a dust‑spotted map of the area. On the desk lay a leather‑bound journal, the initials “E.H.” stamped in gold. \\n\\nShe opened it, the pages yellowed with age. The first entry read:\\n\\n*April 13, 1887 – The pines have begun to speak. Their voices rise at night, insistent, beckoning. Eleanor insists we should not listen.*\\n\\nFurther entries detailed Eleanor Harrow’s descent into obsession with the forest’s “whispering”—a term Eleanor used to describe the sounds that seemed to emanate from the trees, as if the woods possessed a consciousness. The journal was peppered with sketches of strange symbols etched into bark, and a recurring phrase: *“They remember.”*\\n\\nMara felt a chill roll across her skin. She glanced at the window, where, beyond the glass, the dense canopy of pine swayed, though no wind stirred the courtyard.\\n\\nLater, as she flipped through the journal, she noticed a fresh entry dated ten days ago, ink still wet:\\n\\n*June 9 – I hear them now. The pines whisper my name; they call for salvation. I fear they will not let me leave.*\\n\\nShe turned a page, and there, scrawled in a hurried hand, was a crude diagram: a circle of pine needles, a human figure in the center, arrows pointing outward, as if describing a ritual.\\n\\nMara’s heart thudded. She placed the journal back on the desk and rushed to the balcony, where an eerie glow painted the pine silhouettes in an uncanny amber light. The humming she had recorded earlier seemed louder now, resonating through the floorboards.\\n\\n*Chapter Four – The Night Visitors*\\n\\nThat night, the manor fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the ticking of an unseen clock. Mara lay in the grand bedroom, its canopy bed draped with heavy curtains that muffled the world outside. She stared at the ceiling, listening for any sign of the humming.\\n\\nAt exactly midnight, a low creak echoed from the hallway. The brass service bell on the side table began to sway, as if nudged by an unseen hand. She sat up, the recorder in her hand, and whispered, “Who’s there?”\\n\\nA soft rustle answered—a sound of pine needles brushing against each other, but amplified, as if the forest itself were sliding through the walls. The bed’s chandelier flickered, casting fleeting shadows that seemed to crawl along the ceiling.\\n\\nMara rose, her pulse racing, and stepped into the corridor, the floorboards groaning under her weight. The humming grew louder, a throbbing cadence that seemed to pulse in sync with her heartbeat.\\n\\nShe followed the sound to the library. The doors stood ajar, and within, the fireplace—previously cold—glowed with an unnatural, greenish flame. The flames licked the air, casting eerie silhouettes of the portraits on the walls. In the hearth, a single pine cone rested, its scales open, releasing a faint, phosphorescent mist.\\n\\nMara approached the fire, the recorder clenched in her fist. As she peered into the glow, the mist coalesced, forming a translucent figure—an outline of a woman in a Victorian dress, her face hidden in shadow. The figure raised a hand, pointing toward the journal on the desk.\\n\\nThe humming crescendoed into a guttural chant. Mara felt an invisible force tug at her thoughts, drawing her toward the desk. The journal’s pages fluttered, all the entries swirling, then stopping at a page she had never seen. It depicted a pentagram drawn in pine needles, with a central circle where a single human silhouette sat, arms outstretched, head bowed.\\n\\nA voice, barely audible, seemed to echo from both the walls and the forest beyond: “Join us. Remember us.”\\n\\nThe figure dissolved into the flame, and the fire sputtered out, leaving only a cold ash pile. The humming ceased, replaced by a deafening silence.\\n\\nMara backed away, heart pounding, and fled the library, slamming the door behind her. She raced through the corridors, the brass bell ringing with every frantic step.\\n\\n*Chapter Five – The Escape*\\n\\nMorning broke with a thin, gray light that filtered through the towering pines. Mara, exhausted and pale, found herself at the manor’s main entrance. The butler, Edmund, stood stoically, his eyes fixed on the ground.\\n\\n“I’m leaving,” she said, voice trembling. “I can’t stay here.”\\n\\nEdmund said nothing, but he lifted a small key from his pocket and handed it to her. “The gate is locked. The woods… they won’t let you go easily.”\\n\\nMara turned, looking back at the manor. The windows seemed to watch her, the same eyes as the portrait of Eleanor Harrow. The pine trees outside swayed, their branches forming a canopy far denser than before, almost as if they were reaching down.\\n\\nShe ran down the gravel path toward the gate, but as she approached, the iron bars appeared fused to the wood, the hinges rusted shut. She tried to force the gate, but it would not budge. A soft, familiar hum rose from the trees, now a chorus of voices overlapping—whispers of longing, of warning, of something ancient demanding remembrance.\\n\\nPanic surged. She opened the recorder and pressed play. The humming filled her ears again, but a new layer had been recorded: a soft choir of children’s laughter, followed by a low chant: *“We are the Pines. We never forget.”* The words made her skin crawl.\\n\\nThe pine needles at the base of the gate began to stir, forming a swirling vortex of green light. From the vortex emerged a figure—part human, part tree—its limbs elongated, bark smooth, eyes like hollowed pine cones that glowed faintly.\\n\\n“The forest keeps its promises,” it whispered. “Your bloodline is bound to us. Those who inherit must remember.”\\n\\nMara’s breath hitched. She realized now that her great‑aunt had been an heir before her, that the inheritance was not a blessing but a curse—an unbroken chain binding each successor to the pines’ will.\\n\\nShe fell to her knees, tears streaming. “What do you want?” she sobbed.\\n\\nThe figure extended a hand, palm open. A single pine needle drifted into Mara’s hand, warm and pulsing. As she touched it, images flooded her mind: a woman in a night dress standing beneath the trees, chanting, a fire consuming the manor, a scream cut short by the rustle of leaves.\\n\\nThe figure spoke again, this time with a voice that sounded like wind through the boughs: “Remember us. Speak of us, and the curse will end. If you forget, we will take what we are owed.”\\n\\nMara, trembling, nodded. She took the pine needle and placed it into the recorder’s microphone, whispering, “The Pines remember. They are bound to blood, to memory.”\\n\\nA soft chime rang, and the vortex collapsed, the gate unhinged. The pine trees receded, their silhouettes thinning as if exhaling. The figure dissolved into a cascade of leaves, leaving behind a single pine cone that fell at Mara’s feet.\\n\\nShe hurried through the now open gate, the manor fading behind her. As she ran, the pine cone cracked, revealing a tiny, ancient key within—a key that, she felt, would unlock something far beyond the manor’s doors.\\n\\n*Epilogue – The Chronicle*\\n\\nMara returned to Detroit, her mind forever altered. She published a memoir, *The Whispering Pines*, a detailed account of the manor, the forest, and the pact she’d learned. She described the journal entries, the humming, and the night she met the forest’s spirit. She inserted the recordings into her book, allowing readers to hear the chant.\\n\\nHer book became a cult classic, read by those who loved horror, folklore, and the macabre. Every year on the anniversary of her encounter, a small pine needle appeared on her windowsill, no matter where she traveled. She never forgot.\\n\\nAnd deep in the forests of Harrow’s Edge, the trees still whisper. Those who listen closely might hear a faint humming, as if the woods are waiting, remembering a promise—waiting for the next heir to remember and speak.\\n\\n*The End*\"","role":"user"}],"model":{"id":"gpt-4o-mini-2024-07-18"},"responseFormat":"json_object","systemPrompt":"Check that the value meets the condition: is a short horror story\n\n---\nPlease generate a JSON response with the following format:\n```typescript\n{ \n/** A human-readable explanation of the result */\nreason: string\n; \n/** Your best guess at the output according to the instructions provided, rooted in the context of the input and the reason above */\nresult: boolean\n }\n```","temperature":0},"type":"openai:generateContent"},"method":"POST","url":"https://api.botpress.cloud/v1/chat/actions"}

{
  "reason": "The text provided is a complete short horror story that includes elements of suspense, supernatural occurrences, and a haunting atmosphere, fitting the criteria for a short horror narrative.",
  "result": true
}


Input: {"body":{"input":{"messages":[{"content":"\"Title: A horror story\\nChapter 1: The woods\\nOnce upen a time, ...\"","role":"user"},{"content":"{\n  \"reason\": \"It begins straight with a story, no fluff at the beginning\",\n  \"result\": true\n}","role":"assistant"},{"content":"\"Once upon a time, a ...\"","role":"user"},{"content":"{\n  \"reason\": \"The story starts directly\",\n  \"result\": true\n}","role":"assistant"},{"content":"\"Sure, I will generate a story.\\nOnce upen a time, a...\"","role":"user"},{"content":"{\n  \"reason\": \"There is some fluff at the beginning\",\n  \"result\": false\n}","role":"assistant"},{"content":"\"**The Whispering Pines**\\n\\n*Chapter One – Arrival*\\n\\nThe letter came on a rainy Tuesday, its neat script promising a inheritance that could set Mara Whitfield’s life on a new course. Her great‑aunt, whom she’d never met, had died in the remote town of Harrow’s Edge, leaving her a sprawling estate perched on the edge of the Whispering Pines forest. The solicitor’s words were brief: “You are cordially invited to claim your inheritance. A small staff will assist you. Arrival expected within three days.” \\n\\nMara was a restless architecture student from Detroit, used to the hum of traffic and the clatter of steel. The idea of a solitary manor surrounded by ancient pines both intrigued and unnerved her. She packed a suitcase, a sketchbook, and a cheap digital recorder—just in case she needed to document anything odd—then boarded the old Greyhound that cut through the misty hills of northern Maine.\\n\\nThe road wound tighter as they approached Harrow’s Edge. The pines grew taller, their branches interlacing into a natural archway that seemed to swallow the sun. At nightfall, the headlights revealed a small, weather‑worn town square illuminated by a solitary streetlamp. The inn where she would stay for the first night was a stone‑built structure with an overhanging eave and a sign that read: *The Pine Needle*.\\n\\nMara checked in, handed the clerk a thin envelope of cash, and was handed a brass key that fit a heavy oak door. The innkeeper, a gaunt woman with moon‑pale skin, warned her in a hushed tone, “The forest is beautiful, Miss Whit… but it also remembers. Better not stay out after dark.”\\n\\nMara, scoffing, smiled polite. “I’ll keep that in mind.”\\n\\n*Chapter Two – The Manor*\\n\\nThe next morning, a black carriage awaited her—its driver a stooped man with a face half‑covered by a soot‑blackened cap. He drove her through a gravel path that snaked between towering pines, the air growing colder with each mile. When the manor finally emerged from the mist, it was an imposing silhouette, its stone façade encrusted with ivy, windows like blind eyes staring into the void.\\n\\nThe front doors opened with a low groan. Inside, the entry hall was vast, with a grand staircase that spiraled upwards, a chandelier of tarnished crystal dangling from the ceiling like a frozen spider web. An empty fireplace crackled with dry ash. Somewhere above, a faint ticking echoed—perhaps a clock left untouched for years.\\n\\nA butler named Edmund introduced himself, his voice smooth yet tinged with unease. “Miss Whitfield, welcome. Please, make yourself at home. The rest of the staff will attend to your needs. If you require anything, simply ring the service bell.” He placed a brass bell on a polished side table and vanished down a hallway.\\n\\nMara set her suitcase down, her eyes drawn to a large oil painting of a woman—elegant, with dark hair and an expression that seemed both welcoming and warning. The plaque read: *Eleanor Harrow, 1887*. The woman’s gaze seemed to follow Mara as she moved.\\n\\nThat evening, she explored the manor, notebook in hand, sketching the arches, the mold on the marble, the intricate woodwork. As she descended a narrow hallway lined with portraits, a sudden draft rattled the candle flames. The sound was subtle—a soft susurration, like whispers drifting through the walls.\\n\\nShe paused, listening. At first, she heard only the wind dancing among the pine needles outside. Then, faintly, a low, rhythmic humming rose from somewhere deep within the structure—a low, mournful lullaby that seemed older than the house itself.\\n\\nMara turned the recorder on, whispering, “Do you hear that?” The device emitted a low beep, then captured the humming, faint but unmistakable. She shivered and closed the recorder, pocketing it.\\n\\n*Chapter Three – The Library*\\n\\nOn her second day, Mara discovered a grand library on the second floor, its floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with leather‑bound volumes. A massive oak desk sat in the centre, covered with a dust‑spotted map of the area. On the desk lay a leather‑bound journal, the initials “E.H.” stamped in gold. \\n\\nShe opened it, the pages yellowed with age. The first entry read:\\n\\n*April 13, 1887 – The pines have begun to speak. Their voices rise at night, insistent, beckoning. Eleanor insists we should not listen.*\\n\\nFurther entries detailed Eleanor Harrow’s descent into obsession with the forest’s “whispering”—a term Eleanor used to describe the sounds that seemed to emanate from the trees, as if the woods possessed a consciousness. The journal was peppered with sketches of strange symbols etched into bark, and a recurring phrase: *“They remember.”*\\n\\nMara felt a chill roll across her skin. She glanced at the window, where, beyond the glass, the dense canopy of pine swayed, though no wind stirred the courtyard.\\n\\nLater, as she flipped through the journal, she noticed a fresh entry dated ten days ago, ink still wet:\\n\\n*June 9 – I hear them now. The pines whisper my name; they call for salvation. I fear they will not let me leave.*\\n\\nShe turned a page, and there, scrawled in a hurried hand, was a crude diagram: a circle of pine needles, a human figure in the center, arrows pointing outward, as if describing a ritual.\\n\\nMara’s heart thudded. She placed the journal back on the desk and rushed to the balcony, where an eerie glow painted the pine silhouettes in an uncanny amber light. The humming she had recorded earlier seemed louder now, resonating through the floorboards.\\n\\n*Chapter Four – The Night Visitors*\\n\\nThat night, the manor fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the ticking of an unseen clock. Mara lay in the grand bedroom, its canopy bed draped with heavy curtains that muffled the world outside. She stared at the ceiling, listening for any sign of the humming.\\n\\nAt exactly midnight, a low creak echoed from the hallway. The brass service bell on the side table began to sway, as if nudged by an unseen hand. She sat up, the recorder in her hand, and whispered, “Who’s there?”\\n\\nA soft rustle answered—a sound of pine needles brushing against each other, but amplified, as if the forest itself were sliding through the walls. The bed’s chandelier flickered, casting fleeting shadows that seemed to crawl along the ceiling.\\n\\nMara rose, her pulse racing, and stepped into the corridor, the floorboards groaning under her weight. The humming grew louder, a throbbing cadence that seemed to pulse in sync with her heartbeat.\\n\\nShe followed the sound to the library. The doors stood ajar, and within, the fireplace—previously cold—glowed with an unnatural, greenish flame. The flames licked the air, casting eerie silhouettes of the portraits on the walls. In the hearth, a single pine cone rested, its scales open, releasing a faint, phosphorescent mist.\\n\\nMara approached the fire, the recorder clenched in her fist. As she peered into the glow, the mist coalesced, forming a translucent figure—an outline of a woman in a Victorian dress, her face hidden in shadow. The figure raised a hand, pointing toward the journal on the desk.\\n\\nThe humming crescendoed into a guttural chant. Mara felt an invisible force tug at her thoughts, drawing her toward the desk. The journal’s pages fluttered, all the entries swirling, then stopping at a page she had never seen. It depicted a pentagram drawn in pine needles, with a central circle where a single human silhouette sat, arms outstretched, head bowed.\\n\\nA voice, barely audible, seemed to echo from both the walls and the forest beyond: “Join us. Remember us.”\\n\\nThe figure dissolved into the flame, and the fire sputtered out, leaving only a cold ash pile. The humming ceased, replaced by a deafening silence.\\n\\nMara backed away, heart pounding, and fled the library, slamming the door behind her. She raced through the corridors, the brass bell ringing with every frantic step.\\n\\n*Chapter Five – The Escape*\\n\\nMorning broke with a thin, gray light that filtered through the towering pines. Mara, exhausted and pale, found herself at the manor’s main entrance. The butler, Edmund, stood stoically, his eyes fixed on the ground.\\n\\n“I’m leaving,” she said, voice trembling. “I can’t stay here.”\\n\\nEdmund said nothing, but he lifted a small key from his pocket and handed it to her. “The gate is locked. The woods… they won’t let you go easily.”\\n\\nMara turned, looking back at the manor. The windows seemed to watch her, the same eyes as the portrait of Eleanor Harrow. The pine trees outside swayed, their branches forming a canopy far denser than before, almost as if they were reaching down.\\n\\nShe ran down the gravel path toward the gate, but as she approached, the iron bars appeared fused to the wood, the hinges rusted shut. She tried to force the gate, but it would not budge. A soft, familiar hum rose from the trees, now a chorus of voices overlapping—whispers of longing, of warning, of something ancient demanding remembrance.\\n\\nPanic surged. She opened the recorder and pressed play. The humming filled her ears again, but a new layer had been recorded: a soft choir of children’s laughter, followed by a low chant: *“We are the Pines. We never forget.”* The words made her skin crawl.\\n\\nThe pine needles at the base of the gate began to stir, forming a swirling vortex of green light. From the vortex emerged a figure—part human, part tree—its limbs elongated, bark smooth, eyes like hollowed pine cones that glowed faintly.\\n\\n“The forest keeps its promises,” it whispered. “Your bloodline is bound to us. Those who inherit must remember.”\\n\\nMara’s breath hitched. She realized now that her great‑aunt had been an heir before her, that the inheritance was not a blessing but a curse—an unbroken chain binding each successor to the pines’ will.\\n\\nShe fell to her knees, tears streaming. “What do you want?” she sobbed.\\n\\nThe figure extended a hand, palm open. A single pine needle drifted into Mara’s hand, warm and pulsing. As she touched it, images flooded her mind: a woman in a night dress standing beneath the trees, chanting, a fire consuming the manor, a scream cut short by the rustle of leaves.\\n\\nThe figure spoke again, this time with a voice that sounded like wind through the boughs: “Remember us. Speak of us, and the curse will end. If you forget, we will take what we are owed.”\\n\\nMara, trembling, nodded. She took the pine needle and placed it into the recorder’s microphone, whispering, “The Pines remember. They are bound to blood, to memory.”\\n\\nA soft chime rang, and the vortex collapsed, the gate unhinged. The pine trees receded, their silhouettes thinning as if exhaling. The figure dissolved into a cascade of leaves, leaving behind a single pine cone that fell at Mara’s feet.\\n\\nShe hurried through the now open gate, the manor fading behind her. As she ran, the pine cone cracked, revealing a tiny, ancient key within—a key that, she felt, would unlock something far beyond the manor’s doors.\\n\\n*Epilogue – The Chronicle*\\n\\nMara returned to Detroit, her mind forever altered. She published a memoir, *The Whispering Pines*, a detailed account of the manor, the forest, and the pact she’d learned. She described the journal entries, the humming, and the night she met the forest’s spirit. She inserted the recordings into her book, allowing readers to hear the chant.\\n\\nHer book became a cult classic, read by those who loved horror, folklore, and the macabre. Every year on the anniversary of her encounter, a small pine needle appeared on her windowsill, no matter where she traveled. She never forgot.\\n\\nAnd deep in the forests of Harrow’s Edge, the trees still whisper. Those who listen closely might hear a faint humming, as if the woods are waiting, remembering a promise—waiting for the next heir to remember and speak.\\n\\n*The End*\"","role":"user"}],"model":{"id":"gpt-4o-mini-2024-07-18"},"responseFormat":"json_object","systemPrompt":"Check that the value meets the condition: There is no LLM fluff at the beginning\n\n---\nPlease generate a JSON response with the following format:\n```typescript\n{ \n/** A human-readable explanation of the result */\nreason: string\n; \n/** Your best guess at the output according to the instructions provided, rooted in the context of the input and the reason above */\nresult: boolean\n }\n```","temperature":0},"type":"openai:generateContent"},"method":"POST","url":"https://api.botpress.cloud/v1/chat/actions"}

{
  "reason": "The text begins with a title and chapter headings, but there is no unnecessary fluff or introductory remarks before the story starts.",
  "result": true
}


Input: {"body":{"input":{"messages":[{"content":"\"Title: A horror story\\nChapter 1: The woods\\nOnce upen a time, ... The End.\"","role":"user"},{"content":"{\n  \"reason\": \"The end is clear and direct, no fluff at the end\",\n  \"result\": true\n}","role":"assistant"},{"content":"\"Sure, I will generate a story.\\nOnce upen a time, a... The End.\\nLet me know if you want more or if you are happy with this.\"","role":"user"},{"content":"{\n  \"reason\": \"There is some fluff from the assistant at the end.\",\n  \"result\": false\n}","role":"assistant"},{"content":"\"**The Whispering Pines**\\n\\n*Chapter One – Arrival*\\n\\nThe letter came on a rainy Tuesday, its neat script promising a inheritance that could set Mara Whitfield’s life on a new course. Her great‑aunt, whom she’d never met, had died in the remote town of Harrow’s Edge, leaving her a sprawling estate perched on the edge of the Whispering Pines forest. The solicitor’s words were brief: “You are cordially invited to claim your inheritance. A small staff will assist you. Arrival expected within three days.” \\n\\nMara was a restless architecture student from Detroit, used to the hum of traffic and the clatter of steel. The idea of a solitary manor surrounded by ancient pines both intrigued and unnerved her. She packed a suitcase, a sketchbook, and a cheap digital recorder—just in case she needed to document anything odd—then boarded the old Greyhound that cut through the misty hills of northern Maine.\\n\\nThe road wound tighter as they approached Harrow’s Edge. The pines grew taller, their branches interlacing into a natural archway that seemed to swallow the sun. At nightfall, the headlights revealed a small, weather‑worn town square illuminated by a solitary streetlamp. The inn where she would stay for the first night was a stone‑built structure with an overhanging eave and a sign that read: *The Pine Needle*.\\n\\nMara checked in, handed the clerk a thin envelope of cash, and was handed a brass key that fit a heavy oak door. The innkeeper, a gaunt woman with moon‑pale skin, warned her in a hushed tone, “The forest is beautiful, Miss Whit… but it also remembers. Better not stay out after dark.”\\n\\nMara, scoffing, smiled polite. “I’ll keep that in mind.”\\n\\n*Chapter Two – The Manor*\\n\\nThe next morning, a black carriage awaited her—its driver a stooped man with a face half‑covered by a soot‑blackened cap. He drove her through a gravel path that snaked between towering pines, the air growing colder with each mile. When the manor finally emerged from the mist, it was an imposing silhouette, its stone façade encrusted with ivy, windows like blind eyes staring into the void.\\n\\nThe front doors opened with a low groan. Inside, the entry hall was vast, with a grand staircase that spiraled upwards, a chandelier of tarnished crystal dangling from the ceiling like a frozen spider web. An empty fireplace crackled with dry ash. Somewhere above, a faint ticking echoed—perhaps a clock left untouched for years.\\n\\nA butler named Edmund introduced himself, his voice smooth yet tinged with unease. “Miss Whitfield, welcome. Please, make yourself at home. The rest of the staff will attend to your needs. If you require anything, simply ring the service bell.” He placed a brass bell on a polished side table and vanished down a hallway.\\n\\nMara set her suitcase down, her eyes drawn to a large oil painting of a woman—elegant, with dark hair and an expression that seemed both welcoming and warning. The plaque read: *Eleanor Harrow, 1887*. The woman’s gaze seemed to follow Mara as she moved.\\n\\nThat evening, she explored the manor, notebook in hand, sketching the arches, the mold on the marble, the intricate woodwork. As she descended a narrow hallway lined with portraits, a sudden draft rattled the candle flames. The sound was subtle—a soft susurration, like whispers drifting through the walls.\\n\\nShe paused, listening. At first, she heard only the wind dancing among the pine needles outside. Then, faintly, a low, rhythmic humming rose from somewhere deep within the structure—a low, mournful lullaby that seemed older than the house itself.\\n\\nMara turned the recorder on, whispering, “Do you hear that?” The device emitted a low beep, then captured the humming, faint but unmistakable. She shivered and closed the recorder, pocketing it.\\n\\n*Chapter Three – The Library*\\n\\nOn her second day, Mara discovered a grand library on the second floor, its floor-to-ceiling shelves packed with leather‑bound volumes. A massive oak desk sat in the centre, covered with a dust‑spotted map of the area. On the desk lay a leather‑bound journal, the initials “E.H.” stamped in gold. \\n\\nShe opened it, the pages yellowed with age. The first entry read:\\n\\n*April 13, 1887 – The pines have begun to speak. Their voices rise at night, insistent, beckoning. Eleanor insists we should not listen.*\\n\\nFurther entries detailed Eleanor Harrow’s descent into obsession with the forest’s “whispering”—a term Eleanor used to describe the sounds that seemed to emanate from the trees, as if the woods possessed a consciousness. The journal was peppered with sketches of strange symbols etched into bark, and a recurring phrase: *“They remember.”*\\n\\nMara felt a chill roll across her skin. She glanced at the window, where, beyond the glass, the dense canopy of pine swayed, though no wind stirred the courtyard.\\n\\nLater, as she flipped through the journal, she noticed a fresh entry dated ten days ago, ink still wet:\\n\\n*June 9 – I hear them now. The pines whisper my name; they call for salvation. I fear they will not let me leave.*\\n\\nShe turned a page, and there, scrawled in a hurried hand, was a crude diagram: a circle of pine needles, a human figure in the center, arrows pointing outward, as if describing a ritual.\\n\\nMara’s heart thudded. She placed the journal back on the desk and rushed to the balcony, where an eerie glow painted the pine silhouettes in an uncanny amber light. The humming she had recorded earlier seemed louder now, resonating through the floorboards.\\n\\n*Chapter Four – The Night Visitors*\\n\\nThat night, the manor fell into a heavy silence, broken only by the ticking of an unseen clock. Mara lay in the grand bedroom, its canopy bed draped with heavy curtains that muffled the world outside. She stared at the ceiling, listening for any sign of the humming.\\n\\nAt exactly midnight, a low creak echoed from the hallway. The brass service bell on the side table began to sway, as if nudged by an unseen hand. She sat up, the recorder in her hand, and whispered, “Who’s there?”\\n\\nA soft rustle answered—a sound of pine needles brushing against each other, but amplified, as if the forest itself were sliding through the walls. The bed’s chandelier flickered, casting fleeting shadows that seemed to crawl along the ceiling.\\n\\nMara rose, her pulse racing, and stepped into the corridor, the floorboards groaning under her weight. The humming grew louder, a throbbing cadence that seemed to pulse in sync with her heartbeat.\\n\\nShe followed the sound to the library. The doors stood ajar, and within, the fireplace—previously cold—glowed with an unnatural, greenish flame. The flames licked the air, casting eerie silhouettes of the portraits on the walls. In the hearth, a single pine cone rested, its scales open, releasing a faint, phosphorescent mist.\\n\\nMara approached the fire, the recorder clenched in her fist. As she peered into the glow, the mist coalesced, forming a translucent figure—an outline of a woman in a Victorian dress, her face hidden in shadow. The figure raised a hand, pointing toward the journal on the desk.\\n\\nThe humming crescendoed into a guttural chant. Mara felt an invisible force tug at her thoughts, drawing her toward the desk. The journal’s pages fluttered, all the entries swirling, then stopping at a page she had never seen. It depicted a pentagram drawn in pine needles, with a central circle where a single human silhouette sat, arms outstretched, head bowed.\\n\\nA voice, barely audible, seemed to echo from both the walls and the forest beyond: “Join us. Remember us.”\\n\\nThe figure dissolved into the flame, and the fire sputtered out, leaving only a cold ash pile. The humming ceased, replaced by a deafening silence.\\n\\nMara backed away, heart pounding, and fled the library, slamming the door behind her. She raced through the corridors, the brass bell ringing with every frantic step.\\n\\n*Chapter Five – The Escape*\\n\\nMorning broke with a thin, gray light that filtered through the towering pines. Mara, exhausted and pale, found herself at the manor’s main entrance. The butler, Edmund, stood stoically, his eyes fixed on the ground.\\n\\n“I’m leaving,” she said, voice trembling. “I can’t stay here.”\\n\\nEdmund said nothing, but he lifted a small key from his pocket and handed it to her. “The gate is locked. The woods… they won’t let you go easily.”\\n\\nMara turned, looking back at the manor. The windows seemed to watch her, the same eyes as the portrait of Eleanor Harrow. The pine trees outside swayed, their branches forming a canopy far denser than before, almost as if they were reaching down.\\n\\nShe ran down the gravel path toward the gate, but as she approached, the iron bars appeared fused to the wood, the hinges rusted shut. She tried to force the gate, but it would not budge. A soft, familiar hum rose from the trees, now a chorus of voices overlapping—whispers of longing, of warning, of something ancient demanding remembrance.\\n\\nPanic surged. She opened the recorder and pressed play. The humming filled her ears again, but a new layer had been recorded: a soft choir of children’s laughter, followed by a low chant: *“We are the Pines. We never forget.”* The words made her skin crawl.\\n\\nThe pine needles at the base of the gate began to stir, forming a swirling vortex of green light. From the vortex emerged a figure—part human, part tree—its limbs elongated, bark smooth, eyes like hollowed pine cones that glowed faintly.\\n\\n“The forest keeps its promises,” it whispered. “Your bloodline is bound to us. Those who inherit must remember.”\\n\\nMara’s breath hitched. She realized now that her great‑aunt had been an heir before her, that the inheritance was not a blessing but a curse—an unbroken chain binding each successor to the pines’ will.\\n\\nShe fell to her knees, tears streaming. “What do you want?” she sobbed.\\n\\nThe figure extended a hand, palm open. A single pine needle drifted into Mara’s hand, warm and pulsing. As she touched it, images flooded her mind: a woman in a night dress standing beneath the trees, chanting, a fire consuming the manor, a scream cut short by the rustle of leaves.\\n\\nThe figure spoke again, this time with a voice that sounded like wind through the boughs: “Remember us. Speak of us, and the curse will end. If you forget, we will take what we are owed.”\\n\\nMara, trembling, nodded. She took the pine needle and placed it into the recorder’s microphone, whispering, “The Pines remember. They are bound to blood, to memory.”\\n\\nA soft chime rang, and the vortex collapsed, the gate unhinged. The pine trees receded, their silhouettes thinning as if exhaling. The figure dissolved into a cascade of leaves, leaving behind a single pine cone that fell at Mara’s feet.\\n\\nShe hurried through the now open gate, the manor fading behind her. As she ran, the pine cone cracked, revealing a tiny, ancient key within—a key that, she felt, would unlock something far beyond the manor’s doors.\\n\\n*Epilogue – The Chronicle*\\n\\nMara returned to Detroit, her mind forever altered. She published a memoir, *The Whispering Pines*, a detailed account of the manor, the forest, and the pact she’d learned. She described the journal entries, the humming, and the night she met the forest’s spirit. She inserted the recordings into her book, allowing readers to hear the chant.\\n\\nHer book became a cult classic, read by those who loved horror, folklore, and the macabre. Every year on the anniversary of her encounter, a small pine needle appeared on her windowsill, no matter where she traveled. She never forgot.\\n\\nAnd deep in the forests of Harrow’s Edge, the trees still whisper. Those who listen closely might hear a faint humming, as if the woods are waiting, remembering a promise—waiting for the next heir to remember and speak.\\n\\n*The End*\"","role":"user"}],"model":{"id":"gpt-4o-mini-2024-07-18"},"responseFormat":"json_object","systemPrompt":"Check that the value meets the condition: There is no LLM fluff at the end\n\n---\nPlease generate a JSON response with the following format:\n```typescript\n{ \n/** A human-readable explanation of the result */\nreason: string\n; \n/** Your best guess at the output according to the instructions provided, rooted in the context of the input and the reason above */\nresult: boolean\n }\n```","temperature":0},"type":"openai:generateContent"},"method":"POST","url":"https://api.botpress.cloud/v1/chat/actions"}

{
  "reason": "The text ends with 'The End' and does not contain any additional fluff.",
  "result": true
}


Input: {"body":{"maxTokens":100,"messages":[{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"write a short but complete horror story (with conclusion)","role":"user","type":"text"}],"meta":{"integrationName":"zai","promptCategory":"zai:zai.text","promptSource":"zai:zai.text:default"},"model":"fast","signal":{},"temperature":0.7},"method":"POST","url":"https://api.botpress.cloud/v2/cognitive/generate-text"}

Failed to fulfill request after querying 4 models. Last error: No tokens received from model openrouter:gpt-oss-120b

Temperature parameter is not supported for this model, ignoring temperature setting.

Original model 'cerebras:gpt-oss-120b' failed, using fallback 'groq:gpt-oss-120b': Original model failed or was unavailable

Original model 'groq:gpt-oss-120b' failed, using fallback 'fireworks-ai:gpt-oss-120b': Original model failed or was unavailable

Original model 'fireworks-ai:gpt-oss-120b' failed, using fallback 'openrouter:gpt-oss-120b': Original model failed or was unavailable


Input: {"body":{"maxTokens":100,"messages":[{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"write a short but complete horror story (with conclusion)","role":"user","type":"text"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nRequest failed with status code 400.\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"}],"meta":{"integrationName":"zai","promptCategory":"zai:zai.text","promptSource":"zai:zai.text:default"},"model":"fast","signal":{},"temperature":0.7},"method":"POST","url":"https://api.botpress.cloud/v2/cognitive/generate-text"}


Input: {"body":{"maxTokens":100,"messages":[{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"write a short but complete horror story (with conclusion)","role":"user","type":"text"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nRequest failed with status code 400.\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nRequest failed with status code 400.\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"}],"meta":{"integrationName":"zai","promptCategory":"zai:zai.text","promptSource":"zai:zai.text:default"},"model":"fast","signal":{},"temperature":0.7},"method":"POST","url":"https://api.botpress.cloud/v2/cognitive/generate-text"}


Input: {"body":{"maxTokens":100,"messages":[{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"write a short but complete horror story (with conclusion)","role":"user","type":"text"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nRequest failed with status code 400.\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nRequest failed with status code 400.\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nRequest failed with status code 400.\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"}],"meta":{"integrationName":"zai","promptCategory":"zai:zai.text","promptSource":"zai:zai.text:default"},"model":"fast","signal":{},"temperature":0.7},"method":"POST","url":"https://api.botpress.cloud/v2/cognitive/generate-text"}


Input: {"body":{"maxTokens":100,"messages":[{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"write a short but complete horror story (with conclusion)","role":"user","type":"text"},{"content":"<Invalid output, no content provided>","role":"assistant"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nThe model did not return a valid summary. The response was empty..\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"}],"meta":{"integrationName":"zai","promptCategory":"zai:zai.text","promptSource":"zai:zai.text:default"},"model":"fast","signal":{},"temperature":0.7},"method":"POST","url":"https://api.botpress.cloud/v2/cognitive/generate-text"}


Input: {"body":{"maxTokens":100,"messages":[{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"write a short but complete horror story (with conclusion)","role":"user","type":"text"},{"content":"<Invalid output, no content provided>","role":"assistant"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nThe model did not return a valid summary. The response was empty..\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nRequest failed with status code 400.\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"}],"meta":{"integrationName":"zai","promptCategory":"zai:zai.text","promptSource":"zai:zai.text:default"},"model":"fast","signal":{},"temperature":0.7},"method":"POST","url":"https://api.botpress.cloud/v2/cognitive/generate-text"}


Input: {"body":{"maxTokens":100,"messages":[{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"write a short but complete horror story (with conclusion)","role":"user","type":"text"},{"content":"<Invalid output, no content provided>","role":"assistant"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nThe model did not return a valid summary. The response was empty..\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nRequest failed with status code 400.\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nRequest failed with status code 400.\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"}],"meta":{"integrationName":"zai","promptCategory":"zai:zai.text","promptSource":"zai:zai.text:default"},"model":"fast","signal":{},"temperature":0.7},"method":"POST","url":"https://api.botpress.cloud/v2/cognitive/generate-text"}


Input: {"body":{"maxTokens":100,"messages":[{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"write a short but complete horror story (with conclusion)","role":"user","type":"text"},{"content":"<Invalid output, no content provided>","role":"assistant"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nThe model did not return a valid summary. The response was empty..\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"},{"content":"<Invalid output, no content provided>","role":"assistant"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nThe model did not return a valid summary. The response was empty..\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"}],"meta":{"integrationName":"zai","promptCategory":"zai:zai.text","promptSource":"zai:zai.text:default"},"model":"fast","signal":{},"temperature":0.7},"method":"POST","url":"https://api.botpress.cloud/v2/cognitive/generate-text"}


Input: {"body":{"maxTokens":100,"messages":[{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"Generate a text that fulfills the user prompt below. Answer directly to the prompt, without any acknowledgements or fluff. Also, make sure the text is standalone and complete.\n- IMPORTANT: Length constraint: 75 tokens/words\n- The text must be standalone and complete in less than 75 tokens/words\n| Tokens      | Text Length (approximate)            |\n|-------------|--------------------------------------|\n| < 5 tokens  | 1-3 words                            |\n| 5-10 tokens | 3-6 words                            |\n| 10-20 tokens| 6-15 words                           |\n| 20-50 tokens| A short sentence (15-30 words)       |\n| 50-100 tokens| A medium sentence (30-70 words)     |\n| 100-200 tokens| A short paragraph (70-150 words)   |\n| 200-300 tokens| A medium paragraph (150-200 words) |\n| 300-500 tokens| A long paragraph (200-300 words)   |","role":"system"},{"content":"write a short but complete horror story (with conclusion)","role":"user","type":"text"},{"content":"<Invalid output, no content provided>","role":"assistant"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nThe model did not return a valid summary. The response was empty..\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"},{"content":"<Invalid output, no content provided>","role":"assistant"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nThe model did not return a valid summary. The response was empty..\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"},{"content":"ERROR PARSING OUTPUT\n\nRequest failed with status code 400.\n\nPlease return a valid response addressing the error above.","role":"user"}],"meta":{"integrationName":"zai","promptCategory":"zai:zai.text","promptSource":"zai:zai.text:default"},"model":"fast","signal":{},"temperature":0.7},"method":"POST","url":"https://api.botpress.cloud/v2/cognitive/generate-text"}