The scent got stronger with every step.
Theo's voice faded into the background as Alaric veered off the path, slipping between two tall tents and heading toward the edge of the trees. His blood rushed in his ears.
He didn't even know what he was doing, just that something inside him was pulling hard like a string tied to his ribs was being yanked by fate.
He barely noticed when the music behind him faded.
He stepped deeper into the woods, his boots crunching over the dry leaves. The trees were thicker, and most of the noise from the festival faded into the background. The silence around him felt too still, almost like the air was holding its breath. Yet his pulse kept racing faster.
Midnight kept growling in his head, completely restless and excited.
Alaric slowed near the edge of a small clearing, narrowing his eyes. "I know someone's there," he called out with a calm voice.
"I'm not here to fight." He raised his hand to surrender.
