The night of the gathering arrived, and the air crackled with an unnatural energy. Julian, disguised in a dark cloak, followed the townspeople to a secluded clearing in the woods. A bonfire blazed in the center, casting eerie shadows on the faces of the assembled crowd.
Sabrina stood at the edge of the clearing, her expression a mixture of fear and resignation. She saw Julian and her eyes widened in alarm.
"You shouldn't be here," she mouthed, her voice lost in the chanting of the crowd.
As the ritual reached its climax, Julian stepped forward, his voice ringing out in the clearing. "What is this? What are you celebrating?"
His words broke the spell of the gathering, and the crowd turned to him with hostility. A figure emerged from the shadows – a descendant of the Whitfields, his eyes burning with ancient power.
"He has no right to be here," the Whitfield descendant hissed, his voice filled with venom. "He seeks to awaken what should remain sleeping."