As Rylan watched the interaction unfold between his mother and Lucian, a sense of relief washed over him. Perhaps they could navigate the day together without drawing undue attention. The sweet, delicate flavor of the moonflower pastries filled his senses, and he savored the moment; it was a celebration of their friendship and the festival itself.

However, as the afternoon wore on, the festivities continued, leading them toward the grand feast that the village had prepared. Rylan was seated at the long wooden table beside his father, who proudly filled his plate with generous portions of roasted meats and colorful vegetables. Lucian took the seat next to him, the tension in the air sharpening slightly as a few of the guards shot suspicious glances their way, whispering amongst themselves.

Yet it was Rylan’s little sister, Celeste, who questions bubbled with unfiltered curiosity. With wide innocent eyes, she leaned closer to Lucian. “Why are you wearing that mask? And why do you have such bright red eyes?” she asked, her voice echoing with curiosity that filled the air like the scent of roasting meat from the feast.

“Celeste, hush,” Rylan whispered, trying to shush her as he subtly shot a glance toward his father, who was already eyeing Lucian with a mixture of intrigue and concern.

But then the presence of the grand feast silenced the table, as platters piled high with food were laid out, and everyone began to partake in the annual celebration. Laughter and chatter filled the air as stories began to flow, tales steeped in tradition and shared over generations.

After the meal, as twilight descended, everyone gathered around a large bonfire that crackled and spat sparks into the night sky. Shadows danced across the faces of the villagers as they settled onto logs and benches, surrounded by the warm glow of the flames. It was time to share Wolfbane stories—tales of hunts, bravery, and the connection between their people and the wild.

An elder, with deep-set eyes and a voice that resonated like the distant rumble of thunder, started the first tale. “Long ago, when the moon hung low and the nights were thick with shadows, the Wolfbane clan faced a mighty beast that threatened our very existence. It was a creature of darkness, a shadow born from ancient fear.”

He spoke in hushed tones, weaving a narrative rich with the magic of the Wolfbane's past. Paintings of courage filled the air as he described how the bravest hunters banded together, armed only with their wits and the strength of unity.

“They traveled deep into the heart of the forest, where no light dared penetrate,” he recounted, “guided only by the flicker of their torches. They fought valiantly, with the howl of wolves echoing in their hearts, until finally, with a final roar, they drove the beast back into the shadows, securing our land for generations.”

Rylan listened intently, the flickering flames casting vibrant colors across Lucian’s face. Lucian, too, seemed absorbed by the tales, though Rylan could feel the weight of unspoken thoughts lingering beneath his mask.

One by one, other villagers stood to share their own stories—tales of great hunts where packs of courageous hunters pursued game through treacherous terrain, showcasing not only their strength but also the camaraderie that defined the Wolfbane spirit. Rylan's heart swelled with pride as the tales unfolded, every story deepening the connection to his roots and his people.

But as the moon climbed higher in the sky, bathing the gathering in silvery light, Rylan noticed that the guards grew more wary, their eyes scanning the crowd. Lucian, ever perceptive, tugged at Rylan’s arm, pulling him slightly closer, whispering just above the crackle of the fire, “We should be cautious. They are watching us.”

Rylan nodded, more aware than ever of their surroundings. “I know. But it’s just one night, right? I don’t want the magic of this festival to end because of their suspicions,” he replied, hoping to reassure them both.

“True,” Lucian agreed, a subtle smile breaking through the tension. “But sometimes magic comes with its own risks.”

“Then let’s enjoy it,” Rylan insisted, taking a deep breath. “We’ll stay close and make the most of this night.”

But through the stories and laughter, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the tension in the air was growing, like a storm cloud building on the horizon. And as Lucian listened, Rylan found himself both captivated by the tales around the fire and anxious about the shadows that lingered—waiting to see what the night would reveal.