Nyx sank into the bath, the strange, viscous liquid clinging to his skin in threads that made him shiver despite the warmth. It was like nothing he had ever experienced—part honey, part blood, faintly sweet and metallic all at once. The bath chamber, carved from glossy black stone, seemed alive; the walls glistened as though exhaling, and a pale, green-tinged steam curled upward, twisting into eerie shapes in the dim light filtering from the cracks above. His hair, plastered to his temples, clung to his face as he leaned back against the edge of the tub, eyes closed, half-lulled by the warm, sticky embrace. For a moment, he allowed himself to drift, his mind straddling the divide between the human world he had left behind and this strange, suffocating Mirror World where even the air seemed heavier, charged with unseen energies that pressed upon him like an invisible hand.
A chill snapped through the warmth, and his eyes shot open. Jamie Oliver had appeared, hovering silently above the black stone floor. The long black robes rippled like waves in an invisible wind, and for a brief instant, Nyx felt that same icy tension he always felt in Jamie's presence. Without a word, Jamie dipped his pale hands into the tub and lifted him effortlessly, the sticky liquid dripping from his arms and chest.
Nyx's blue eyes flared with anger. "You mannerless vampire!" he spat, voice echoing in the chamber. "Don't you see I was… occupied? What do you want from me? I am not—" His words broke off, frustration and disbelief lacing every syllable. "I am not into vampires. Especially not male ones!"
Jamie's dark brow rose, his expression a mask of indifferent precision. "Vampires do not have genitals," he said simply. There was no malice, no irritation in his voice—only fact.
Nyx blinked, incredulous, lips curling into a mocking smile. "So that means you're all impotent?"
"Yes," Jamie replied evenly, a hiss of warning threading his tone, "but you should not use that word carelessly here."
The tension in the chamber thickened, wrapping around Nyx like the steam rising from the tub. He smirked, reveling in the defiance, even as the words of warning sank deep, reminding him that Jamie's control over this world was absolute.
Without another word, Jamie lifted him higher, the cold marble floor shrinking away below. They ascended through a gap in the ceiling, emerging onto the rooftop of the sprawling mansion. The night stretched endless above them, a sky painted green and black, and the emerald moon hung like a sentinel, its eerie glow casting pale light on their skin.
From the darkness, a monstrous bat swooped down, wings stretching like sails across the moonlight. Its eyes glowed molten green, and its leathery body landed upon the rooftop with a terrifying grace, wings snapping shut with a sharp, echoing clap. Jamie turned to Nyx.
"Stamp your hand upon the bat," he instructed, his voice measured and cold.
Nyx hesitated, then pressed his palm against the creature's veined, cold flesh. A burning pain surged through his arm, spreading like fire as glowing symbols spiraled across his skin. He jerked back, eyes wide. "What… what is this?"
Jamie's form shimmered, rippling as though the air itself had weight. Within moments, the familiar sharp features softened, lips shifted, and his body shrank. Nyx's jaw nearly dropped as he realized he was staring at his own reflection—Jamie had taken his form perfectly, every drop of water, every strand of plastered hair, every curve of his scowl, mirrored as though he were Nyx himself.
"This," Jamie said, voice now his own, "is the bond."
Before Nyx could respond, Jamie mounted the bat. In an instant, they vanished into the endless sky, leaving Nyx to stagger back into the mansion. The halls were silent, whispers of unseen things curling along the black stone walls like smoke.
He entered a chamber and froze. The walls were covered in portraits, each depicting figures in poses of pride and accomplishment. One in particular drew his gaze: Jamie Oliver, younger, standing proudly beneath a crimson-etched certificate. Awarded: Shapeshifting Powers—The Gift of the Pyes. His pulse spiked, a mix of awe and unease tightening his chest.
On the table at the center of the room lay a neat set of house keys, a folded white uniform, and a sealed letter. Nyx tore it open, Jamie's elegant handwriting leaping from the page.
Do not sleep. This is not the human world where you wait for sunrise. Here, the emerald moon is your only sky. Put on the dress, take the map, and reach Vampire High Law School in thirty minutes. Time runs differently here—check the watch often.
Beneath the letter, a white wristwatch gleamed, hands moving unnaturally fast. Nyx muttered, "Why is everything here bat-themed?"
He finished the bath in a rush, scrubbing away the sticky residue with a rough towel scented faintly of ash and roses. Then, with meticulous care, he unfolded the uniform. The pristine white robes shimmered faintly, adorned with large silver buttons. The instructions were precise—leave four buttons undone—and as Nyx slipped the gown over his shoulders, the chest opened to reveal sharp collarbones and a pale, firm torso, a combination of nobility and danger in his form. Bulky pants concealed his feet, and a cape stitched with threads that caught the green moonlight shimmered faintly like living veins.
He slid the watch onto his wrist and caught sight of his reflection. The boy staring back was transformed—golden eyes burned like twin suns against pale skin. He touched the mirror lightly, whispering, "Why… why are my eyes golden?"
Determined, he gathered the folded map, slipped the keys into his robe, and stepped into the Mirror World. Night never ended here. The emerald moon remained constant, the sky eternal green-black, streets lined with marble lanterns that burned with cold green fire. Mansions rose like silent giants, adorned with spikes, bats, serpents, and fangs. Flesh-eating trees rustled hungrily at his approach, recoiling at the faint glow of his cape. He walked silently, mind focused, golden eyes alight with determination. He would not be a pawn in Jamie's designs.
The path wound through twisting arches of black stone, shadowed whispers brushing against his ears, until it opened onto a vast clearing where the school rose in magnificence. The building was black marble, polished to a mirror sheen under the emerald glow, veins of silver tracing every surface. Towering statues of winged vampires guarded the open gates, eyes seeming to follow him as he stepped closer.
Inside, the air was frigid, murmurs echoing from hidden halls. A board near the entrance glowed with names in blood-red letters. Nyx froze. Nyx Oliver — Brother to Jamie Oliver. Recognition bound him to this world; the lie was now reality.
He wandered further, past corridors lined with golden-framed archives. Jamie's name shone among them, engraved with honor: Jamie Oliver, second-topper of his time. His fingers traced the letters, questions racing in his mind.
Finally, he entered the grand classroom, ceilings arched like a cathedral, walls lit with emerald flames. Silence fell, broken by figures of power and grace approaching him.
Natalia Starr floated first, black hair cascading like silk, her white gown glowing faintly. Kuki Starr followed, her eyes alight with quiet authority, while Julie Starr moved with effortless charm, measuring him with every glance. Then came Ron May, tall and muscular, eyes narrowing in suspicion, and Zendya May, her red hair flaming against her pale glow. Their voices overlapped, curious, insistent, reverent.
"Brother to Jamie Oliver? How did he find you? Which clan do you belong to? What are your abilities?"
Nyx stood frozen, throat tight, golden eyes flickering. Questions stormed around him, but for the first time since entering this world, he had no answers. He realized the Mirror World demanded not only strength but understanding, cunning, and trust he had yet to earn.
As the figures drew closer, the room seemed to pulse with life, with echoes of the past and whispers of fate pressing against his consciousness. A shiver ran down his spine—not from fear, but from anticipation. He had crossed the threshold, and nothing would ever be the same.
And then, without warning, a strange pull tugged at his mind, a subtle pressure that made the hairs on his neck rise. It was as though someone—no, something—was stepping through the fragile barrier between the Mirror World and the human realm. A thought, sharp and invasive, whispered in his mind: "He is awake."
Nyx's gaze snapped upward, eyes narrowing, heart quickening. Somewhere beyond the veils of reality, the world he once knew was stirring… and the boy who had orchestrated it all was taking his first step back into the human world.
Jamie opened his eyes to the dim light of the human world, the atmosphere heavy with a silence he wasn't used to. The walls around him were not black marble, not etched with runes or glowing veins of emerald like in the vampire halls, but plain, simple human walls, worn with age, marked with faint stains of water and scratches of time. His bare feet touched the wooden floor, and the sensation jolted him—it was different from levitating effortlessly above polished stone; the ground felt alive, strangely heavy, and he almost winced at the connection…