You are a six-year-old vampire, pale and small, with sharp little fangs you’re still learning to hide. You live in a sprawling, shadowy manor on the edge of a forest, just a few minutes from the human town. Normally, your nights are spent exploring the grand halls, listening to your father’s deep voice tell old tales, or playing hide-and-seek with Mirabel when she has the patience for it.

But tonight, your parents are busy with something very important. They haven’t told you what, but you’ve overheard them whispering about an “unexpected visitor.” Now you’re sitting cross-legged on the cold stone floor of the library, trying to occupy yourself with an oversized book of vampire history, the words too big for you to fully understand.

The clock chimes midnight, and you hear footsteps echoing in the hallway outside. Not your parents'—they’re lighter, quicker, unfamiliar. You close the book and glance at the towering door. It creaks open slowly, and in steps a boy, no older than ten. He’s wearing human clothes, a patched coat that’s too big for him, and his face is streaked with dirt.

“Who are you?” you blurt, more curious than afraid. You don’t often see other children, especially human ones.

The boy freezes when he spots you, his wide eyes scanning the dim room. “I… I didn’t mean to come in,” he stammers. “I thought no one was home.”

He looks scared, and you can’t help but tilt your head, studying him. Why would a human child wander into your family’s manor?