The woods here never really change. Whispering Pines has grown up around them, of course—new houses, more lights in the dark, paved streets cutting through what used to be wild. But in the depths of these woods, it's like time gets…stuck. Stuck in a long, slow exhale. Nothing shifts or moves too quickly. Not the moss, not the shadows, and certainly not me.

I watch the shadows lengthen across Main Street from my perch atop Pixel & Fangs. These aren't the natural shadows of dusk—they move wrong, pulse with a hunger I recognize all too well. I've seen their kind before, back in Prague in 1742. They consumed an entire district before we could stop them. Sometimes I still hear the screams.

But these shadows are different. More patient. More calculating. They're drawn to Zoe's light like moths to a flame, but they're not mindless creatures seeking warmth. They're scouts, testing our defenses, probing for weaknesses. I've watched their patterns these past weeks, the way they retreat just before striking, gathering strength. Learning.

The thought of Zoe makes something tighten in my chest, an ache I'd sworn had died centuries ago. Her magic pulses through the town now like a heartbeat, steady and sure, no longer the wild flare of untapped potential but something more dangerous—more powerful. When she returned from the Nexus today, the air itself seemed to bend around her, responding to her presence. She's becoming what she was meant to be. It's magnificent to watch. And terrifying.

I remember another who shone so bright. Vienna, 1891. She called herself the Dawnbreaker. The shadows took her in the end, turned her light to darkness. I won't let that happen again. I can't.

The memory of my promise to Titania rises up, sharp as iron. I can still see her standing in that moonlit clearing, her eyes like stars, her voice ancient as the trees themselves. "You will keep the light safe, Lucian. You will not falter. Promise me this."

And I had promised. The magic of that oath burns in my blood even now, but lately, it's not the only thing that burns. Every time Zoe smiles, every time she stands her ground against impossible odds, every time she brings our misfit family closer together—it's like watching the sun rise after an endless night.

Mayor Price thinks she can protect this town with her supernatural defense force, her carefully hidden budget lines and secret protocols. She's not entirely wrong—the wards her family laid down centuries ago still hold power. But she doesn't understand what's coming. None of them do. Except maybe Madame Esmeralda, though that old witch speaks in riddles even I can't decipher.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

I've seen the signs before. The thinning of the veil, the way reality bends and warps, the increasing boldness of creatures that should know better than to show themselves. This isn't just another supernatural crisis. This is a prelude to war.

Below me, Zoe exits Rosie's Diner, her silver light trailing in her wake like stardust. The shadows retreat wherever she passes, but I notice how they curl back, almost... curious. They're learning her patterns too. The thought chills me more than anything has in centuries.

I should warn her. Tell her everything I know about what's coming. But knowledge is its own kind of poison. I've watched too many potential saviors crumble under the weight of prophecy and destiny. Better to let her grow into her power naturally, find her own path. Even if that path leads her away from—

No. I won't finish that thought.

The night air carries the scent of coffee and magic from the diner, mingled with something darker. Ancient. The same scent I caught in Paris in 1832, just before the shadows tore a hole between worlds. I make a mental note to strengthen the wards around Pixel & Fangs again. The arcade games make excellent anchors for protection spells—something about the mix of technology and imagination creates a uniquely stable matrix.

Finn's howl echoes in the distance—he's getting better at controlling his transformations, even if he doesn't realize it yet. Melody's voice drifts up from the street below, humming a tune that makes the air shimmer. Raven's dark energy crackles somewhere nearby, keeping watch in her own way. And Grumps... well, Grumps is probably reading comics and pretending he's not worried about all of us.

My family. My strange, magical, impossible family. When did that happen?

The silver chain around my neck seems to tighten—Titania's gift, a reminder of my oath. But as I watch Zoe pause to help Mrs. Fitzgerald untangle her enchanted wind chimes, I realize something. I'm not protecting her because of a promise anymore. I'm protecting her because... because...

A shadow moves wrong near the park. I'm on my feet instantly, scanning for threats. But it's just a cat, probably one of Mrs. Jenkins's many "totally normal" felines that definitely don't talk or cast minor hexes.

Still. Better to be careful.

Dawn isn't far off now. Soon I'll need to retreat from the sun's embrace, let others keep watch. But for now, I maintain my vigil, guarding this town that's become home, these people who've become family, and the light that burns brighter with each passing day.

Even if it burns me in the end.

The shadows are gathering. War is coming. And I'm starting to wonder if my promise to Titania was ever about protecting the light at all.

Maybe it was about being here to witness something extraordinary. Something worth burning for.