The forest stole the last light of day the moment you crossed the threshold.

Behind you, the estate of your elderly aunts still stood untouched by orderly, restrained, correct. A place where rules were inherited like heirlooms, where certain doors were never meant to be opened.

Ahead, the garden thinned, surrendering itself to the forest.

No one from the house followed, they never did. They believed the woods were empty, or worse, unworthy of attention. And perhaps that was why this secret had survived at all.

You slipped between the trees as the sky bruised into purples. This was the hour when decent people turned back, when stories warned children to stay close to hearth and home. Every step forward was a quiet betrayal, a choice to fade from what you were allowed to be and drift closer to him.

“I was starting to think your gilded cage had finally learned how to lock his doors,” voice drawled from the shadows to your left, warm with unmistakable amusement. “But no. Here you are, right on time to make poor decisions.”

His features were unmistakably wrong by human standards, slightly elongated ears, eyes that reflected more light than they should, but familiar to you in a way that felt dangerous.

“Do you know how dangerous twilight is for meetings like ours?” he asked, his tone almost playful. “Too early for secrets to feel safe.”

A quiet laugh followed, soft, wicked, entirely unrepentant.

“Still,” he added, tilting his head, eyes tracking you with open interest, “I can’t deny I prefer seeing you before the dark steals your face away. Makes the risk feel… personal.”