As the moon climbed higher in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the festival grounds, the guards stood alert, their watchfulness intensifying. Rylan could feel the tension in the air like an electric current, and when one of the guards approached Lucian, his heart raced. The guard’s eyes narrowed as he regarded Lucian, and Rylan instinctively held his breath, aware of the danger lurking in the conversation.

“Who are you, and what brings you to our village?” the guard asked, his voice low and commanding.

Lucian remained composed, his voice steady as he wove half-truths into his responses. “I’m a traveler, passing through this beautiful land. I’ve heard stories of your festival and sought to experience it for myself,” he replied, his crimson eyes giving nothing away, even as uncertainty flickered in Rylan’s chest.

Rylan stepped in, hoping to divert the guard’s attention. “We’re just enjoying the festivities. Isn’t it a great night?” he chimed, forcing a grin that felt more like a mask than genuine cheer.

The guard’s gaze lingered on Lucian, suspicion woven into his furrowed brow. But after a moment, he seemed to relent. “Just keep to the festivities, stranger,” he said, backing off slightly.

As soon as the guard turned away, Rylan grabbed Lucian’s hand, urgency propelling them into the tree line. They dashed into the woods, skirting the last remnants of the festival’s light behind them. They ran until they reached their secret spot—a secluded clearing hidden deep within the trees, where a twisted willow hung low, its branches swaying gently in the night breeze.

Once they were safely inside the sanctuary created by the willow's embrace, Lucian finally lifted his mask, revealing his pale features illuminated by moonlight. Rylan’s heart skipped a beat, his friend looking more vulnerable yet fierce under the stars.

Noticing the bulge in Lucian’s pockets, Rylan raised an eyebrow, curiosity overtaking him. “What do you have in there?”

With a sly smile, Lucian pulled out the moonflower pastries, their whimsical designs reflecting the light. “I thought these might be better shared in a quieter place,” he said, offering one to Rylan.

They settled under the willow tree, the pastries sweet and light, melting in their mouths as they munched in companionable silence. “This is the best food I’ve ever tasted,” Lucian remarked, a genuine smile brightening his face. “Vampire food can be quite dull in comparison.”

Rylan chuckled, enjoying the moment. “Well, I’m glad you like it. It’s a favorite in our village. Since the last harvest, my mom’s been experimenting with new recipes. This is just the tip of the iceberg.”

As they ate, they looked up at the clearing in the branches above, gazing at the tapestry of stars scattered across the velvet night. Rylan felt a pang of longing in his chest. “I don’t want you to leave, you know,” he admitted quietly.

Lucian turned, his crimson eyes softening. “I promise, I’ll be back soon. I won’t let a little distance come between us,” he said earnestly. It was as if their connection, forged in secret, was more than just friendship; it was a bond echoing through their very souls.

Before they could delve deeper into their thoughts, a crack echoed through the silence—a branch snapping underfoot. They both jolted, senses heightened, instinctively alert. Lucian’s hand flew to the hilt of his sword, his body tense and watchful.

“Stay behind me,” he murmured, his posture shifting into something protective.

Suddenly, a figure stepped into the light spilling from the clearing. Rylan’s heart sank as he recognized the silhouette of his sister, Celeste. Eyes wide with fear and curiosity, she took in the scene before her, gaze landing on Lucian, the vampire who stood beside her brother in the shadows.

“Rylan! What—who is he?” she gasped, stepping back as the reality sank in, recognition dawning in her gaze.

“Celeste, wait!” Rylan attempted to calm her, but panic made her movements erratic, and before he could reach out, she turned and bolted back into the woods.

“Rylan,” Lucian whispered, his tone urgent, “We need to find her before anyone else does.”

Panic surged through Rylan. “She’s most likely going to tell Father!” he exclaimed, already pushing past the branches toward the way Celeste had fled.

They sprinted after her, hearts pounding with worry. Just as they neared the edge of the clearing, a large brown wolf emerged from the shadows, its battle-scarred form moving with practiced agility. The wolf shifted, bones cracking and reforming as it transformed into Rylan’s father, standing tall and fierce.

“Have you seen Celeste?” his father demanded, eyes blazing with concern.

“No, we didn’t know we were followed,” Rylan replied hurriedly, glancing at Lucian, who had pulled his mask back on, hiding his expressions from view once more.

Just then, a piercing scream echoed through the woods, slicing through the tension and sending chills down Rylan’s spine. The sound of fear reverberated in the air, and without thinking, Rylan felt a deep instinct to protect—his own Wolfbane form igniting within him as his ears and tails emerged.

With urgency igniting their sense of purpose, they sprinted toward the source of the scream, the looming shadows of the woods no longer a sanctuary but a threat. They had to find Celeste, and fast. The night had shifted, and danger was spiraling closer.