Narrator's POVGreendale was quiet beneath the October moon. The air was sharp, tinged with autumn decay. Tomorrow night, Sabrina Spellman would sign her name into the Book of the Beast.
But not if Keiran had any say.
Keiran's POVFrom the tree line at the edge of the Spellman mortuary, Keiran watched. She was there, framed by the window, candlelight flickering over her pale skin and auburn hair. She wasn't a child anymore. She was nearly grown — and yet, to him, she would always be that infant who once grasped his hand.
He shouldn't be here. For sixteen years, he had kept his distance. Silent, hidden. His father's leash was still around his throat, tugging him toward Hell's throne.
But tonight? Tonight the leash snapped.
Inside the Mortuary — Hilda's POVHilda hummed as she stirred a pot of soup in the kitchen, Zelda lecturing Sabrina somewhere in the house. Then, a knock echoed at the door.
Not the sharp, confident rap of Faustus Blackwood. Not the polite tap of a neighbor.
A single, deliberate knock.
She frowned, wiping her hands, and opened the door.
There stood a man — tall, dark-haired, with eyes that seemed too deep, too knowing. He smiled faintly, polite, but something about him unsettled her.
"Evening," he said smoothly. "Forgive the intrusion. My name is Keiran. I… recently came to Greendale, and I was told the Spellmans might be of help to a man like me."
Hilda's instincts screamed at her, but her kindness overruled it. "Well then, come in, dear. Any friend of Greendale's is a friend of ours."
Sabrina's POVShe came down the stairs, curiosity in her eyes. And then she froze.
The man standing in the parlor looked… familiar. She didn't know why. Something about his face tugged at a memory she couldn't place — like the ghost of someone she'd once seen long ago.
"Sabrina," he greeted her, bowing his head ever so slightly. His voice was smooth, deliberate, carrying a weight she didn't understand. "It's… an honor to finally meet you."
Her brows furrowed. Finally?
Zelda's POVFrom the doorway, Zelda's eyes narrowed. This Keiran was trouble. His posture was too perfect, his presence too heavy. Men like him didn't just stumble into Greendale.
"Why are you really here?" she asked sharply.
He met her gaze without flinching. "To live quietly. To study. To… belong, perhaps."
But Zelda saw the flicker in his eyes when they landed on Sabrina. The claim of belonging wasn't for them — it was for her.
NarratorThe Spellmans didn't know his true name. They didn't know his vow. They didn't know that, tomorrow, when Sabrina stood before the Dark Lord, Keiran would be watching — ready to step from the shadows not as a stranger, but as her shield.
The game had begun.