In the outskirts of a quiet town stood a figure shrouded in darkness, his silhouette stark against the bleeding twilight. Clad in all black, his silk coat billowed with the wind, carrying with it trails of black smoke and fiery embers that swirled ominously around him. Shoulder-length hair whipped against his face, adding to the haunting mystique of his presence.
The dim light concealed his features, cloaking them in shifting shadows. One hand rested casually in his pocket while the other toyed with wisps of smoke, twisting them into shapes that danced at his command. His eyes lifted to the crescent moon above, silent and unyielding, as though it alone bore witness to his vigil.
"Damon," his voice broke the stillness, low and resonant, echoing against the desolate landscape. "It's time for you to come home."
With a sweep of his hand, the smoke tightened, swirling and coalescing until it formed a flickering image. A face emerged in the haze—Abigail's visage, clear and unyielding.
"You don't know the danger you're putting yourself in. The Black Dragons are already moving, preparing to strike and stop the Blue Moon from reaching its full power. I must bring you back before that night comes. And the only way… is to send this girl away from you.
"You've started falling in love, and that is your undoing. Love has no place in your world, Damon—it will tear down everything you've built, everything you've endured. I won't let you throw it all away for her. That girl is dangerous. Very dangerous."
As the last word left his lips, his form dissolved, consumed by smoke and burning flakes of fire, leaving only emptiness on the cliffside where he had stood.
---
ONE YEAR LATER
Abigail and Lucky's love had grown into something radiant, something undeniable. Their days were painted with laughter, their nights with whispered promises. Together, they had wandered through cities and forests, carved their names into hidden corners of the world, and turned fleeting moments into cherished memories.
Lucky's devotion to Abigail was boundless. He adored her with a fierceness that startled even those closest to him, his protectiveness a constant reminder that to him, she was everything. Wherever they went, eyes followed, captivated by the unshakable bond between them. Abigail belonged to Lucky Dymon—and the world knew it.
…
In a lavish room bathed in dim light, Abigail stretched out on the bed, her thoughts tangled in the warmth of Lucky's smile and the anticipation of his return. The silence was sweet, heavy with expectation—until her phone shattered it with a shrill, unfamiliar ring.
A shiver traced her spine. Unknown number.
She hesitated, then answered.
"Velverosa," a thick, gravelly voice growled, sharp as a blade, "you are wasting precious time. The Full Blue Moon is almost upon us. The Blue Mooners prepare even now. You were sent to manipulate him, to retrieve the key—but you delay. Why?"
Abigail's grip tightened on the phone. "I told you before. He's lived for over a thousand years without love. Winning his trust requires patience, not force. If I rush, I'll fail. And then everything will be lost."
A pause. Then the voice rumbled, dark with suspicion. "Patience, fine. But don't forget the rules. You're forbidden to fall in love. He is the enemy. Tell me you haven't forgotten that."
Her jaw clenched. Anger sharpened her tone. "I'm no fool. I know my mission—I don't need you reminding me."
But before she could finish, a voice came from behind her.
"Abi… who are you talking to?"
The phone slipped from her trembling hands, clattering onto the floor. Her eyes widened in horror as she turned toward the doorway—where Lucky stood, the shadows framing him, suspicion burning in his gaze.
Mm