On the night of the Harvest Festival, the entire town transformed. Fairy lights hung from trees like glowing fruit. Masked lanterns lined the streets, carved with twisting designs and eyes that seemed to follow. The air was thick with spice and smoke, and under it all—something else. Something metallic. De
I hadn't planned to go. I told myself I would stay in bed, read a book, and ignore the world. But Eva appeared on my porch just before sundown, holding a black dress and a gentle smile.
"You don't miss Harvest Night," she said. "Even if you want to."
Her voice had a weight it usually didn't.
I let her in. She helped zip the dress and curled my hair by the window. As the sun set, the town's colors bled into twilight hues. She handed me a velvet mask, deep burgundy, trimmed with dark lace.
"You'll blend right in," she promised.
I doubted that.
The square was unrecognizable.
Fire pits crackled in every corner. Musicians played haunting tunes on violins and flutes. Children darted between booths, faces painted like creatures—wolves, owls, shadows. Adults danced in wide circles, their laughter high and strange.
Masks. Everyone wore one.
It felt less like a celebration and more like a ritual.
I kept to the edges at first, sipping cider from a carved wooden cup. I smiled when spoken to. I nodded at small talk. I pretended to be normal.
But I felt eyes on me.
Not one pair.
Two.
I saw the first man near the flame dancers.
He wore a simple black mask and a tailored coat. His presence bent the space around him. He stood still while everything else moved. A stone in the current.
His gaze locked on me.
My heart stuttered.
I turned away, but the second figure stood behind me.
Taller. Broader. Mask shaped like a wolf's snarl.
He didn't speak. Just stood close enough that I felt his breath along my neck.
Then someone called my name.
I jumped.
It was a man from town—Caleb, I think. A local mechanic. He grinned and offered his hand.
"Dance with me?"
I almost said no.
But the weight of those stares pushed me forward.
So I danced.
Caleb was sweet. He asked me about my house, if I was settling in okay. I nodded, giving vague answers, all while my skin crawled.
The two masked figures watched.
I could feel their fury across the fire.
Then, without warning, Caleb tensed.
I looked up to find the man in the black mask standing beside us.
"May I cut in?" he asked, voice velvet-dark.
Caleb blinked. "Uh, sure."
He backed away quickly, like he felt it too—that oppressive energy coiling from this stranger.
I hesitated, but the man already had my hand.
We danced.
He moved perfectly. Graceful. Controlled. My body followed like it remembered him.
"You look beautiful tonight," he said.
"I don't know you."
He tilted his head. "Don't you?"
"No."
"Not yet."
The mask shifted as he smiled.
My palm burned where we touched.
He leaned closer. "You shouldn't have danced with him. It wasn't safe."
"Why not?"
"Because you're already spoken for."
I stepped back.
"I belong to no one."
A flicker of heat lit in his gaze. He bowed slightly, lips brushing my knuckles.
"We'll see."
He vanished into the crowd.
Before I could breathe, another hand caught mine.
This one rougher. Warmer.
"Come with me," a voice growled.
The man in the wolf mask pulled me away from the dancers.
I didn't resist.
We ended up behind one of the booths, half-shielded by fabric and ivy.
"You shouldn't let him touch you," he said.
"Who are you?"
He didn't answer.
But he stepped closer, and I felt heat radiating off him in waves.
"You smell like danger," he whispered.
"I'm not the one stalking strangers at parties."
He smiled, sharp and wild.
"You liked it."
I swallowed.
"I don't even know your name."
"You will."
Then he leaned in. Not quite a kiss. Just enough to let his breath brush my lips.
"The other one doesn't deserve you. But I'll protect you from him."
And just like the first—he was gone.
I stumbled back into the crowd.
Disoriented. Shaken. Burning inside.
The music had shifted. Slower now. Deeper.
A woman brushed past me. Her mask was silver and skeletal. Her hand caught mine for just a moment.
"Blood and moon will claim you," she whispered. "Choose none, and be torn in two."
I turned. "What did you say?"
She was gone.
The firelight dimmed.
The sky above twisted.
A hush fell over the square.
I looked up—and gasped.
The moon. The full moon, bright and round, had turned the color of blood.
Deep red. Pulsing.
Gasps echoed through the crowd. Some screamed.
Children cried. Elders bowed their heads.
A bell rang once, heavy and slow.
Then silence.
The two masked men stood across from one another now, faces bare.
And I saw them.
The first—Cassian. Pale. Beautiful. Eyes glowing faintly red.
The second—Elias. Golden. Broad. Wildness simmering just beneath his skin.
They stared at each other like war.
Then at me.
Cassian stepped forward. "She's mine."
Elias growled. "You don't get to claim her."
Cassian's lips curled. "Too late."
Elias lunged.
They met in the center of the square, and for a moment, no one moved.
Then power exploded.
Light. Shadows. Snarls. Screams.
But before they could touch—
A third voice rang out.
"Enough!"
An older woman stepped between them, hands raised. Her presence was commanding—her eyes silver with age and magic.
The crowd parted.
Council.
Others emerged beside her. Men and women cloaked in midnight robes. The Council of Ashwood.
"You disgrace the pact," the woman said. "You break centuries of peace."
"She's marked," Cassian hissed.
"She's ours," Elias snapped.
"She is herself," the woman snapped. "And you will not touch her again without consequence."
Cassian said nothing.
Elias's jaw clenched.
The woman turned to me.
"You need to leave. Tonight."
I stared at her.
"I—I don't understand."
"You don't need to. Just go."
Eva found me in the crowd and led me away. Her hands shook as she pushed me through back alleys toward home.
"You weren't supposed to be chosen," she said.
"Chosen for what?"
But she didn't answer.
The night behind us roared. The moon bled. And somewhere in the shadows, two monsters stared at the same girl and decided:
She would never belong to herself again.
I didn't sleep.
I sat in bed, dress torn, mask forgotten on the floor.
And I whispered to the dark:
"I never asked for any of this."
But the dark didn't care.
And neither did they.