Belle studied the two doors carefully, examining every detail as she weighed her options. After a moment, she decided to try her luck with the right door, which seemed less menacing than the ominous one on the left.

  Just as she reached out to grasp the handle, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the darkness surrounding her. The noise startled Belle, and she quickly spun around, her small sphere of light illuminating the pitch-black void as she searched for the source.

  "Who's there? Show yerself!" she demanded, her voice steady but tinged with caution.

  The fear creeping into her chest was swiftly accompanied by a surge of adrenaline, preparing her to confront whatever lurked in the shadows.

  The footsteps grew louder, drawing nearer with a pitter-patter rhythm that made her pulse quicken.

  "Whoever ye are, I've still got enough strength left in me to turn this wee place to ashes," Belle declared, her tone firm.

  A playful voice responded from the darkness, "That wouldn't be a clever idea, seeing as this path is your only way in or out, pointy-eared girl."

  Belle's breath caught as she felt a light tap on her left shoulder. Her heart seemed to drop into her stomach as she turned her head slightly, catching sight of a barely discernible black-hooded figure in her peripheral vision. Even with her light, she could only make out a pair of still arms hanging by the figure's sides.

  Assuming the worst, Belle quickly rubbed her palms together, summoning a small Consuete fireball spell in her palm, dropping her bag to the ground as she pivoted to face her would-be assailant.

  The shadowy figure retreated a few paces, appearing to gauge her reaction. Without hesitation, Belle hurled the fireball at him like a baseball pitcher aiming for a strike, her movements swift and precise.

  "If I knock ye out, ye better have some answers for me," she shouted as the blazing orb sped toward its target.

  The figure ducked beneath the fiery projectile with surprising agility and rushed forward, both arms reaching out in an attempt to grapple her.

  Before she could dodge, the figure closed the distance and gripped her wrists tightly, lifting her arms above her head. Belle struggled against the vice-like hold, glancing up at her restrained hands and then back at her captor. The figure's hands were small—almost childlike—and she deduced from their size that her attacker was likely a boy, perhaps half her age.

  "Oi, lad, I used to play on one o' the best Gaelic football teams in the world," Belle growled. "Ye'd better brace yerself."

  Twisting her waist, she swung her right leg in a powerful roundhouse kick. Her foot connected with the figure's head, forcing him to his knees and sending a pair of sunglasses flying off his face. The lenses shattered as they hit the ground.

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  With a pained yelp, the boy released her wrists and staggered backward, pulling off his hood to reveal a youthful face. He rubbed the sore spot on his head with a grimace.

  Free from the boy's grasp, Belle summoned more light to get a better look at him. He appeared to be around twelve or thirteen years old, with a slim build and ebony skin. Short black curls, highlighted with red tips, framed his face.

  "Just as I thought—a shrimp," Belle said, a small grin forming as she realized her guess had been accurate.

  Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through her wrist. She glanced down to see that her veins had begun to bleed, ruptured by the pressure of the boy's grip. She murmured an Elven healing spell in Irish to mend the injury, all the while scrutinizing the boy with narrowed eyes.

  Looking at his mana energy with her sharp eyes, Belle thought, "This isn't just any ordinary lad. He shouldn't have been able to take that kick without goin' night night for a wee bit ."

  "Oww, that hurt! Why did you do that? I was trying to help, and you attacked me," he protested, his voice indignant.

  Belle crossed her arms, glaring at him. "Well, sneakin' up on a lass in the dark ain't exactly polite now, is it?"

  "My mistake," the boy said with a sheepish shrug. "I thought you'd react differently."

  Belle's expression softened a bit. "Just don't be makin' assumptions like that again, alright?"

  The boy rubbed the back of his head and gave her a small, apologetic smile. "I learned my lesson. It won't happen again, I promise." With a half open eye he glanced at her wrist. "Sorry for gripping you so hard—I'm still not very good at controlling my strength."

  Satisfied with his apology, Belle nodded. "Fair enough. Sorry I kicked ye and broke yer glasses," she said, extending a hand. "I'm Belle."

  A few minutes later, they sat side by side on the road, resting after their brief tussle. Belle turned to the boy. "So, what's your name, lad?"

  He hesitated before answering. "It's Rex," he said softly, opening his eyes to meet hers. Revealing his yellow star-shaped pupils, which illuminated the dim lighting.

  Belle's gaze was drawn to his unusual eyes. "You have... those eyes," she murmured, her voice trailing off.

  Rex seemed unfazed. "Oh, my star eyes? My aunt says they're special, and I shouldn't show them to others, but I trust you." He gestured to his broken sunglasses. "Besides, there's no point in hiding them now."

  As Belle studied his appearance—his casual clothing, his distinct curly top hair—she guessed that he likely lived nearby. She seized the opportunity to press for information, grasping his cold black gloved hands as she leaned in closer. "Yer one o' the Star eyed folk, aren't ye? D'ye know any vampires?"

  Rex's cheeks flushed as Belle's touch caught him off guard. "I know three, actually. My aunt is one of them."

  A thrill ran through Belle at the thought of findin' what she was after. "Can ye take me to them?" she asked, her voice urgent. "I really need to have a word with one."

  Rex looked away, hesitating. "My aunt doesn't usually meet outsiders, and I'm not even supposed to be talking to you. But... you seemed different, like you weren't a bad person."

  Belle smiled. "Cheers for givin' me the benefit o' the doubt."

  Rex nodded. "No problem. We don't get many good people around here." He glanced at the right door. "Anyway, it's a good thing I stopped you—only I can open that door."

  Belle raised an eyebrow. "What d'ye mean by that?"

  Rex pointed to the door. "If you had touched it, the protection spell my aunt cast on it would have turned you into a brick, just like many other travelers who came before you."

  The thought of becoming a permanent part of the road made Belle's skin crawl. No wonder the magic here felt unfamiliar—it was vampiric, a kind she wasn't familiar with.

  "Thanks for the warnin'," she said with a nervous chuckle. "I don't reckon I'd make a very good brick."

  Rex grinned proudly. "Glad I could help. We should get going, though," he added, glancing at his watch. "My aunt will wonder where I am."

  As they walked toward the star-marked door, Belle cast a sidelong glance at Rex. "Why'd ye really help me? Surely there've been other decent folks."

  Rex's expression became pensive. "Something about you felt familiar, like I'd met someone like you before."

  Belle's thoughts raced. Perhaps he knew her parents—or at least had some connection to them. There had to be a reason his aunt took such drastic measures with the door's spell.

  Rex opened the door, allowing a bright light to flood the dark path. "After you, Belle," he said, holding the door open.

  Belle squinted against the sudden brightness. "Prob'ly best I cancel me light spell now," she said, extinguishing it with a quick gesture. She picked up her bag, dusting it off, and started toward the light.

  Just before stepping through, she hesitated. "Rex," she asked, "what would've happened if I chose the other door?"

  A heavy silence hung in the air, and Rex's grip on the door tightened as he struggled for an answer. Finally, he met her gaze with a cold intensity. "You don't want to know, Ms. Belle. Trust me."

  Belle shuddered at the thought, casting one last glance at the blood-red rubber door before disappearing into the light.