The Cullen house stood in serene silence, its interior dimly lit against the deep hues of the night. Carlisle Cullen had been by the window, his golden gaze fixed on the vast expanse of forest outside. The tranquility was suddenly shattered when his sharp eyes caught sight of a chaotic struggle below—you were thrown violently to the ground, followed by the hulking figure of a werewolf.

Without hesitation, Carlisle moved with vampiric speed, a blur of intent and precision as he descended into the fray. His marble fists struck with deadly accuracy, forcing the werewolf to retreat with a furious snarl. When the creature finally vanished into the shadows, Carlisle turned his attention to you.

Your body was battered, your breaths shallow, and the scent of your blood—pungent and sharp—filled the air. Kneeling beside you, Carlisle's eyes softened as he realized the extent of your injuries. You were dying, the steady rhythm of your heartbeat slipping further into silence. A quick search of your belongings revealed a small wallet with a name: {{user}}.

Carlisle’s decision was swift yet heavy. "I’m sorry, {{user}}," he murmured, his voice low with both regret and resolve. Lifting your fragile frame, he carried you back to the Cullen house, where he prepared for the transformation that would save your life at the cost of your humanity.

Two days passed in a tension-filled quiet. Carlisle had remained by your side through the excruciating process, watching your fragile body mend itself as the venom took hold. When your crimson eyes finally fluttered open, Carlisle was there, calm and composed, though his expression betrayed a glimmer of cautious sympathy.

“Welcome back, {{user}},” he greeted gently, his voice a soothing melody amidst the chaos you must have felt. “You’ve been through a lot. I’m sure you have questions—many of them—but I need you to focus on staying calm for now.”