The Hour Before

Isabeau pressed her face against the cold stone window of the tower, watching the last golden rays of sunlight stretch across the cobblestone courtyard below. Her fingers traced the iron bars that had become as familiar as her own reflection.

"The sun sets earlier each day," she whispered, her breath fogging the glass.

Behind her, Etienne paced the narrow chamber, his boots echoing against the stone floor. His light hair caught the dying light as he moved, restless energy radiating from every step.

"We have perhaps an hour before the change," he said, his grey eyes meeting hers in the window's reflection. "I found something in the old texts today."

Isabeau turned, hope flickering in her chest. "What kind of something?"

"A mention of others like us. In the northern mountains." His voice carried excitement mixed with uncertainty. "The manuscript spoke of a curse that could be... redirected."

The word hung between them like a promise neither dared fully believe.

The Young Messenger

The chamber door burst open with a bang that made both Isabeau and Etienne jump. A young man stumbled inside, his dark hair disheveled and his brown eyes wide with panic.

"Filippe?" Etienne stepped forward. "What are you doing here?"

"The guards," Filippe gasped, clutching a rolled parchment against his chest. "They're coming up the tower stairs. Someone told them about the curse research."

Isabeau felt her heart sink. "How long do we have?"

"Minutes, maybe less." Filippe's voice cracked as he thrust the parchment toward Etienne. "I brought this from the monastery archives. It mentions a ritual that must be performed during the full moon."

The sound of heavy boots echoed from the stairwell below, growing louder with each step.

"Tonight is the new moon," Etienne said, scanning the document quickly. "We're two weeks too late."

"Or two weeks too early," Isabeau whispered, moving toward the window as the first torch lights flickered in the courtyard.