The festival ended with a final explosion of color, students cheering as fireworks lit the sky one last time.
Kieran stayed alert—body tense beneath the smile he wore for Leo.
He felt it in his gut.
Something was off.
---
They were walking home, fingers still entwined, when the first sign appeared.
A spray-painted fang on a mailbox.
Leo noticed it too. "That wasn't there before…"
Kieran's pulse quickened. "We need to move."
But they were too late.
---
Four shadows stepped out from the alley ahead. All black. Masks. Gloves. Familiar movements.
Crimson Vow.
Kieran shoved Leo back. "Run!"
Leo didn't move. "Not without you—"
One of the masked figures lunged. Kieran blocked the strike and countered, swift and brutal, like a storm barely contained.
A second attacker came from behind. Leo grabbed a nearby bottle and smashed it, swinging wildly—catching the figure in the shoulder.
"Kieran!" Leo shouted. "More behind us!"
Kieran moved like fire—fists, knees, elbows. He didn't fight to win. He fought to end it fast.
But one masked figure didn't attack.
They stood still.
Watching.
Rael.
Face uncovered.
Kieran froze.
"Why?" he shouted.
Rael's voice was calm. "Because I miss who you were."
A pause.
"And because you can't protect him forever."
Then Rael vanished into the smoke—his soldiers retreating, leaving Kieran standing there, breathless, arms shielding Leo.
---
Later, in Leo's room, Kieran tended to a shallow cut on his cheek.
Leo winced. "I should've run when you told me to."
Kieran didn't answer. He just held Leo's face in his hands, thumb tracing the edge of the bruise.
"I swear I'll keep you safe," Kieran whispered. "Even if it means burning the rest of them to ash."
Leo grabbed his wrists. "Not if it means losing yourself."
They stared at each other, raw and wide open.
And for the first time—Kieran didn't know which promise he could keep.