The next morning, Viana walked into the library with her heart heavy and her thoughts restless.
Lucian had left her shaken. She tried to convince herself to forget him, to go back to the quiet life she had worked so hard to build. But her instincts — the wolf in her blood and the vampire in her bones — whispered something else:
> "Trust him. He's part of your story now."
---
As the hours passed, she couldn't focus. Her hands trembled slightly as she shelved books. At noon, she stepped out for air, and to her surprise, Lucian was already there, waiting across the street.
He waved.
She didn't wave back.
Instead, she walked up to him. "If we're going to talk," she said firmly, "we talk somewhere private."
Lucian nodded and led her to a nearby garden behind an old church — a forgotten place overgrown with vines and moss. The silence was thick.
"Talk," Viana said.
Lucian sat on a stone bench and took out his spellbook. It was old and bound in dark leather, covered with runes. "This belonged to my mother," he said. "She was a moonblood witch — a rare kind that could bend light and shadows."
Viana sat across from him but didn't let her guard down.
"She died when I was ten," he continued, his voice softer now. "Hunters came for her. They said her blood was cursed. My father tried to fight. He died too. I ran."
Viana clenched her jaw. The pain in his eyes… it felt familiar.
Lucian flipped through the pages until he reached a drawing — a symbol of a sun tangled in thorns.
"I've been dreaming of this for weeks," he said. "And then I saw the mark in the sky last night. You saw it too, didn't you?"
Viana slowly nodded.
"I think something ancient is returning," Lucian whispered. "And hybrids like us… we're somehow connected to it."
---
That night, Viana sat on her rooftop, staring at the moon.
She hated this.
She hated how her life could never just stay normal.
But she couldn't lie to herself anymore — Lucian was a part of this, and he might be the only person who truly understood what it meant to be a hybrid. Rayen had been kind. Her parents were her world. But Lucian? He was… *like* her.
---
The next day, Viana closed the library early and invited Lucian to her cottage.
It was a quiet home tucked near the edge of the woods. Books, candles, and old trinkets filled the cozy rooms.
"You live like a forest witch," Lucian joked.
"I like quiet," she replied.
They sat at her kitchen table. Over tea, they talked for hours — about magic, about pain, about loneliness, about dreams.
Lucian told her he'd been chased his whole life. That he had only ever used his magic to help small villages, to heal cursed lands, or to protect kids like him.
"That's why I hide," he said. "Because when I use my powers to help... someone always gets hurt."
Viana looked into his eyes.
"I used to think the same," she whispered. "But my parents taught me otherwise. I can't keep hiding. Not anymore."
---
Later that night, as Lucian left, he stopped at the door.
"You know," he said, "when I saw you for the first time… I thought you were dangerous."
Viana smirked. "I still am."
Lucian laughed softly, then turned serious.
"Viana… thank you for trusting me."
She nodded. "Don't make me regret it."
He smiled and disappeared into the shadows.
---
But just as the door closed behind him, Viana felt something stir in the wind — a cold presence, an invisible weight pressing against her chest.
She rushed to the window.
In the distance, near the edge of the forest, stood a hooded figure cloaked in black, barely visible through the mist.
Watching.
Waiting.
Her eyes glowed faintly.
Whoever they were... they weren't human.
And they weren't welcome.