Blood moon; the first curse

rough the Grey mansion until the early hours. By the time the clock struck six in the morning, the last of the guests had finally bid their farewells, their expensive cars purr

of the mansion had been restored to its impeccable order, ensuring that not a single trac

nally rest. His wife, Linda, was still standing by the large bay window, the ethereal remnants of her silver-white birthday gown shimmering in the faint, pearly light of the dawning horizon. This was her familiar retreat, her silent vig

kdrop of her troubled thoughts. He felt the slight tremor in her shoulders. "You've

th anyone, not even the young women who practically flocked to him, seeking his attention. He was like a ghost at his own mother's celebration. And then, he just... vanished without a trace for hours. I watched him consume tequila shots as though his very existence depended on it, as if trying to d

ken fear that had haunted them for months. Despite their best attempts to maintain a façade of resilience, to present a united, unflappable front to their children, the fear gnawed relentlessly at their hearts, threatening to unravel their composure, piece by ag

on his tongue, a desperate last resort. "Enlightening him about the specific dangers he faces, the exact nature of his existence, may finally awaken him

spered, her voice barely audible, laced with horror. "No, Edward, I cannot bear to utter such words. Despite the ominous warnings of the ancient white witch, despite the chilling prophecy, I refuse to relinquish hope for Damien. I refuse to

suade him," she implored, her voice quivering with raw emotion, a fragile plea. "The curse... the Great White Witch's prophecy... I feel so scared for our son, Edward, and I truly don't know what to do. Almost every other werewolf looks dow

surance, a steady anchor in her storm. "We will navigate this storm together, as we have always done, as we must. Our son's welfare is paramount, the single most important thing, and we will spare no effort to safeguard him from the perils that a

ing a terrible secret. Ascending the grand staircase with purposeful, yet cautious, strides, he approached Damien's chamber with a deep sense of trepidation. He knew this conversation would be difficult, per

stark reminder of the widening chasm that had formed between them. Casting his gaze around the disarrayed chamber, he noted the discarded clothes, the slightly overturned chair, the unmade bed – all subtle signs of a restless night. But there was no sign of Damien's w

ent in tumultuous, violent reverie. There were smudges of dirt and faint, dark stains on his expensive fabric, and his hair was wild, unkempt. Damien's eyes, usually a vibrant blaze of vitality and intelligence, now smoldered with an enigmatic intensity, a deep, unsettling darkness in their depths, as he regarded his father with silent resignation, a weariness that belied his youth. Sensin

d potentially, outright defiance. As father and son stood on the precipice of revelation, the ominous spectre of destiny loomed large, casting a long, cold shadow over their familial bond, threatening to fracture it. With every passing moment, the Grey family's resolve would be tested, their unity challenged by the immutable

ad to confront his son. Knowing Damien well, knowing his fiercely independent spirit and his deep-seated hatred for humans, Mr. Grey was almost certain his son would not agree to this transfer to the human elite school. His recent behavior, his withdrawal and the anger that had clearly erupted during the nigh