Mystic Falls Academy exuded an air of prestige—its white marble spires gleamed under the afternoon sun, and the scent of refined Essence lingered like perfume in the air. For many, walking through its gates was a dream realized. For Cain Siegfried, it was merely another battlefield cloaked in civility.
His first day had passed in calculated silence. He had spoken little and observed much.
It was during his second class—"Essence Control and Combat Theory"—that the storm began to brew.
Professor Teralith, an aged man with snow-white eyebrows and a soul-fire affinity, lectured from a floating dais in front of the class. Rows of students sat on gleaming obsidian benches arranged in a semi-circle, with crystalline essence screens displaying notes overhead.
Cain sat in the back row, arms crossed, black uniform crisp and immaculate. His presence was like a void—silent, still, impenetrable.
In the row ahead, Beatrix Oriana turned slightly. Her crimson eyes sparkled with curiosity and ambition. The heiress of Grand Duke Oriana was not used to being ignored.
Especially not by someone so… untouchable.
She had attempted to engage Cain earlier that morning. He had returned her greeting with a single nod, nothing more. It wasn't rudeness—it was distance, clinical and precise.
Beatrix found it… infuriating.
She slipped a thin ring onto her finger—a Contract of Fellowship, disguised as a silver band. Its design was forbidden in most schools, but she was well-connected. And besides, she had no intention of truly enslaving him.
Just bind him a little. Nudge him into her circle. Leverage him before others tried.
She activated the contract silently, a thread of metal essence weaving from her core into the sigil etched within the ring. The mark glowed briefly—then vanished.
Beatrix smirked. Done.
Then her smile faded.
Her vision blurred for half a heartbeat. A cold, inky pressure pressed down on her core—then snapped. The ring on her finger cracked, crumbling into dust. Her hand trembled involuntarily.
A searing heat flared around her heart, followed by a sensation of being shackled.
She turned sharply to Cain, her breath catching.
He hadn't moved.
His eyes remained on the essence screen, utterly disinterested.
But in her mind—in her soul—a voice whispered, ancient and absolute.
> "The contract is mine now."
Beatrix's body stiffened. She recognized the voice wasn't Cain's—it was something within him. Something dark.
Whatever he was… he was no ordinary student.
From the shadows beneath Cain's desk, a flicker of something monstrous stirred—only for a moment—before vanishing again. No one else noticed.
Professor Teralith continued his lecture, unaware. The class remained ignorant.
And Beatrix? She was now bound.
---
After classes ended, Cain exited the main tower alone. Students filtered toward their dorms in pairs and groups, chatting and laughing. He walked past them like mist, unbothered.
Beatrix followed a few steps behind, quiet, her expression unreadable. The contract was now sealed. She could feel the tug, the undeniable submission in her soul.
She had no idea what Cain would do to her. But the worst part?
A small, traitorous part of her… didn't mind.
---
Cain stood atop the hill outside the academy gates. A sleek black carriage awaited him—drawn not by horses but by a single mechanical beast, powered by lightning essence and bearing the sigil of House Siegfried.
A servant bowed. "Young Master Cain, welcome back."
Cain entered the carriage without a word. Beatrix hesitated—then climbed in after him, compelled by the contract.
The interior was lined with velvet. Cain sat by the window, eyes on the Vulcan skyline as it dimmed into twilight.
Beatrix broke the silence first.
"You knew what I was doing," she said flatly.
Cain didn't turn. "Yes."
"You reversed the contract. That shouldn't be possible."
He finally looked at her—just briefly. "I didn't reverse it. My constitution did."
Beatrix frowned. "What… are you?"
Cain's gaze sharpened slightly, but his voice remained calm. "Someone who's done pretending to be powerless."
A quiet pause settled between them. Then Cain added, "Don't worry. I don't need a slave."
Beatrix blinked, surprised. "Then why not release me?"
Cain's smile was faint—cold. "Because you tried to shackle me. There should be consequences."
The rest of the ride passed in silence.
---
Later that evening, Cain stood alone on the balcony of Azreal's castle, the stars above Vulcan burning like distant beacons.
Behind him, Hellfang materialized from his shadow—glowing eyes reflecting the night.
"She's not ready for what's coming," the direwolf growled.
"No one is," Cain replied.
"But you are," came Laurifer's voice, deep and echoing in his mind.
Cain nodded once.
A new empire. A hidden war. And in his veins—the legacy of a forgotten tyrant burned brighter than ever.
---