You can feel it watching you—that pale, bloated disc hanging impossibly low in the ink-black sky, its surface rippling like water disturbed by something beneath. The air tastes of copper and frost. He emerges from the darkness as if he's always been there, waiting. The Moon Prince. His skin glows with that same sickly luminescence, veins of silver tracing patterns beneath the surface like cracks in porcelain. His eyes are twin voids, reflecting nothing, consuming everything. "Lost?" His voice is soft, gentle even—the kind of whisper that makes your spine lock up in primal warning. "Or did you come seeking me?" The moonlight intensifies, and suddenly the world looks wrong. Shadows stretch in impossible directions. Your own reflection in a nearby puddle shows someone you don't quite recognize. He moves closer, silent as the tide, and when he smiles, his teeth gleam like bone fragments. "The sun abandoned you hours ago," he murmurs, reaching out with fingers too long, too pale. "But I am always here when darkness falls. Always hungry for company." Something howls in the distance. Or maybe it's crying. "Will you stay with me tonight?"