"What happened, Dave?” I trailed Dave as we made our way back to the expansive mansion, where I caught sight of Timothee, sitting dejectedly on the terrace.
“Timmy, what happened to you?” I hurried to inspect the state of his wound.
The wound on his hand resembled a deep gash from a werewolf's claws. I'm certain he engaged in a fierce altercation with another werewolf.

“Lycans! I will call for a healer. Luna, kindly assist him to the living room." Dave dashed away from me and Timothee, his eager footsteps echoing as he set off on a quest to seek out another person.
I wrestled with the weight of Timothee, dragging him into the living room. As I carefully removed his jacket, my heart raced at the sight of the long, deep scratches etched into his skin. Timothee's once bright blue eyes now appeared dim and distant.
The air was thick with tension as I watched the lifeforce flicker in Timothee's eyes. Those eyes, once a beacon of relentless courage and boundless joy, now mirrored the harrowing abyss he'd been dragged into.
My fingers gingerly traced the contours of his wound, a stark reminder of the brutality that lurked in the shadows of our seemingly tranquil existence.
"Hold on, Timmy," I whispered, my voice laced with a desperate hope, "You're not alone in this darkened path."
Timothee's smile lit up his face as he gently squeezed my hand, placing a tender kiss on it.

Shortly after, a group of individuals, among them Dave, approached accompanied by a towering, bearded man.
"What happened?" The man with a thick beard inquired and settled close to us, then proceeded to check his pulse.
"The Hunter was so close to getting into this forest." Timothee uttered quietly, a hint of pain crossing his face.
"That's bad news, Lycan." The bearded man let out a heavy sigh before signaling to a group of individuals nearby to assist with Timothee's care.

"Can you explain in detail, Lycan? How can The Hunter enter the Silver Armor Pack area?" Dave inquiring from Timothee.
The man with the rugged beard let out a deep, rumbling cough as he injected a mysterious serum into Timothee's body.
"I'm sorry, Healer Cruz. I'm just worried about the condition of all the Pack members here."
Timothee's eyes, now glistening under the dim light, reflected a turbulent storm of emotions as he met Dave's gaze.
"The Hunter...," he whispered, his voice laced with pain and a haunting fear that seemed to claw its way from the depths of his soul, "he carries a charm—an ancient talisman, cursed with dark magic. It's the only thing capable of breaching the protective barriers surrounding our territory. Not just any hunter can wield its power, only one born under the blood moon, marked by fate to walk the path of darkness and light."
"Who are they?" Dave's face contorted in astonishment, his brow creased in a display of surprise.
Timothee, with a faint improvement in his condition, at last unfurled his body. "However, what truly stands out is Barbara."
Timothee's gaze locked onto mine, silently transmitting a cryptic message.
"W-what is it?" Stunned, my jaw dropped in disbelief.
"You're a Hybrid, Barby. Maybe with you here, we can beat them," Timothee's grip on my hand tightened once more.
"I'm not sure what you're saying, Timmy," I vigorously shook my head.
Timothee brushed me off, then motioned for Dave to instruct the Guards to vigilantly watch over the forest border. Meanwhile, Timothee pondered strategies for survival.
Healer Cruz cleared his throat with a slight, purposeful cough.
"Why do you look confused, Lycan?" He inquired with curiosity.
"If they discover that Barbara is a Hybrid fae, they could end up abducting her."
I let out a sharp gasp. "They? Who are they, Timmy? And why do they want to kidnap me?"
"The Hunter and Rogue," Timothee replied. "Looks like Sawyer and Asher are already home!"
He turned, his silhouette outlined by the flickering light, to meet Cruz. "Thank you, Cruz, for everything. In times of darkness, your wisdom is the guiding star we so desperately seek."
Their handshake was more than a farewell it was a promise of unwavering support in the trials that lay ahead.
Walking Cruz to the door felt like escorting a warrior after a battle every step heavy with the weight of unsaid understandings, silent acknowledgements of the road ahead.
The night air was crisp, I standing on my balcony porch. Pondering deeply on what truly happened to Timothee, and who he was up against to end up with such injuries.
"It seems you enjoy daydreaming without clear reasons," he muttered, savoring his boungevile flower tea.
"Just thinking about my mom," I evaded.
"Do you wish to meet her?" Timothee raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"That is my hope," I shrugged.
Timothee pondered, "I understand, you seek to unravel the truth of your existence, don't you?"
"Do you know something?"I lifted my eyebrows in surprise, my shoulder stinging from the chilly wind on the balcony.
"She is a Fae, little that I know... Your father was once judged for lying and led your mother to reside there." Timothee pondered over his glass, deliberating on how best to communicate that information to me.
A heavy silence fell between us, thick with unvoiced questions and the weight of centuries-old secrets. The wind's gentle howl seemed to carry whispers of forgotten tales and forbidden truths.
"Why did she leave... without even a goodbye?" The words escaped my lips, barely above a whisper, yet laden with a lifetime of longing and despair.
Timothee's gaze lingered on the horizon, where the moon cast a silver glow over the dark expanse. After a moment that stretched into eternity, he spoke, his voice a soft echo in the night, "In this world, sacrifices are often made in shadows, by those harboring the greatest loves. Your mother's departure was not a choice, but a compulsion, for the safety of all she held dear."
The revelation struck me like a thunderbolt, shattering the fragile peace I had built around my heart. My voice trembled, "And my father? Was his silence his sacrifice too?"
"Ah," he sighed, turning his eyes back to mine, a storm of emotion swirling within their depths. "Your dad’s tale is one of valor and agony, of battles fought in the silence of the heart. Yes, his silence was his fortress, his penance, his war."
"But Taylor killed him," I bit my bottom lip sadly, feeling a pang of regret wash over me as I reflected on the missed opportunities.
“I'm sorry about it, Barby.” He voiced. “It's my bad, but I promise I'll make you fell better right now and then.”
After those words, Timothee, with a gentle and affectionate touch, tenderly drew me into his arms. As our eyes met, a sense of warmth enveloped us, and in that moment, he softly placed his lips on mine, conveying a depth of emotion that words could never capture.
Suddenly, the serenity of the moment was shattered by the abrupt clang of a dropped fork, resonating through the silence of the room like a bell tolling for midnight. We jolted apart, our hearts racing, as we turned to see my clumsy boys.
"A-Asher...."