The moon has always had a strange effect on me . It's not like sunlight, direct and honest. Moonlight is different—it hides as much as it reveals, transforms the familiar into something mystical, makes the ordinary extraordinary. And on this particular night, as I watch the full moon through my bedroom window, I sense something is about to change.

The glass is cold beneath my fingers, and I can see my reflection juxtaposed against the darkness outside—a girl of nineteen with eyes too large for her face, red hair that seems to absorb the silvery light. But there's something else in the reflection, something that makes me hold my breath. A shadow that shouldn't be there, a movement that isn't mine.

"Do you always watch the moon like this?" The voice comes from behind me, soft as velvet, but with a force that makes my knees weak. I don't turn around. Not yet. Because I know that when I do, nothing will happen first.

"For as long as I can remember," I reply, my voice firmer than I expected. "The moon... it calls to me."

A low sound, almost a purr, echoes through the room. "She calls to us all," he says, and now I can feel his presence closer, like a wave of warmth on a cold night. "But you... you can hear..."

Finally, I turn around, and there he is. Tall, slender, with silver hair that seems to catch and reflect the moonlight. His eyes are like liquid mercury, bright and hypnotic. He shouldn't be here, in my room, in the middle of the night. But somehow, it feels more wrong that he wasn't.

"Who are you?" I ask, even though I know the answer will change everything.

He smiles, and there's something predatory in it, something that should make me run. But I can't. I don't want to. "My name doesn't matter," he replies, taking a step toward me. "And you, Elia, are the reason I'm here."

"How do you know my name?" The words come out in a whisper, and he chuckles softly.

"I know a lot about you, Elia. I know you dream of places you've never been, that you hear music no one else can hear. I know you feel like you don't belong in this world..." He stops, his eyes fixed on mine. Then he continues. "Because you... really don't."

It should sound like madness. It should make me scream for help, run away. But every word resonates inside me like a truth I've always known but never dared admit. Like pieces of a puzzle finally falling into place.

"What are you?" I ask, taking a step towards him, even though I know I'm playing with fire.

"The right question," he says, extending a hand toward me, "is what are we?"

And as I look at his outstretched hand, I know I'm faced with a choice. I can continue living in the safety of the world I've always known, or I can discover the truth about who—or what—I really am.

The moon shines brighter through the window, as if it too is waiting for my decision.

Slowly, I reached out my hand toward his. He held it with gentle firmness, his cool fingers contrasting with the heat radiating from his gaze. My instinct tells me he's dangerous, and I'm drawn to that feeling!

"Some choices, after all, are already made before we even know they are choices," he murmured, stepping even closer.

My heart was pounding, a mixture of fear and excitement coursing through my veins. He slowly lifted my hand until it touched his lips, and I felt a shiver run down my spine as he gently kissed my fingers!

"Elia," he said, his voice a hypnotic whisper, "you are more special than you know."

And before I can respond, his eyes hold mine, and as he leans in, an invisible fire consumes me. The kiss that comes is a sigh at first, a breeze in the night, but...