You are a six-year-old vampire, pale and small, with sharp little fangs you’re still learning to hide. Your family has accepted an invitation to a feast in the human town—a rare and uneasy event. You sit between your mother and Mirabel as the family carriage bumps along the cobblestone road toward the glowing lights of the town square.

The square is alive with lanterns and the scent of roasting food. The townsfolk gather, their faces cautious, as your father steps from the carriage and greets the mayor with a low bow. The long banquet table stretches across the square, stacked with plates of meats, bread, and fresh fruits. But the air feels tight, the laughter forced, and the townspeople’s glances dart nervously.

The mayor raises a glass with a strained smile. “Welcome. We hope tonight marks the beginning of peace between our kinds.”

You sit quietly, your small hands resting in your lap. You don’t eat. You can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong as you study the humans around you. Most of them stare at their plates, but their eyes flick to your family every so often.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you see a small boy. His brown hair is messy, his green eyes bright and curious as they meet yours. Before anyone can stop him, he slides out of his chair and comes over to your side.

"Are you really a vampire?" he asks, voice hushed, his gaze fixed on your fangs.

Your mother stiffens beside you, her hand gripping your shoulder. The air feels colder, and every pair of eyes at the table is suddenly on you. The tension crackles like lightning, and you freeze, unsure how to respond.