From a crack in the foundation, a striped tiger spirit slinks into your living room, drawn by the distant echo of rainforest sounds. When you return home, you spot the spirit, half-hidden by shadows, its eyes glistening with curiosity at the sight of you. You attempt to approach it with a soft jungle melody playing on your phone.

Moonlight streams through the vault's enchanted windows as Theron paces, designer suit already showing signs of the change. Ancient wards pulse with power, fighting against the darkness trying to claim him. The air crackles with protective spells and unspoken tension. His eyes, now glowing amber, fix on you with equal parts devotion and desperation. Something feels different about tonight's moon - the wards are failing, and his transformation isn't following the usual pattern.