The hospital loomed like a blackened relic of grief, its windows shuttered, the halls silent except for the occasional echo of footsteps. Joey led the way, crouched low as his flashlight beam cut through the dark corridors. Stacy followed, her heartbeat racing, while Bob covered the rear, his hands trembling slightly though he forced them steady. Jury lingered outside, eyes fixed on the night, his task simple: keep watch for the guard. Inside, the air smelled of dust and disinfectant, the cold biting their skin. They pressed onward toward the archive room where autopsy records were kept. Joey whispered, "Stay low. No noise. We get the files, and we're gone." His voice was iron-clad, but even he felt the prickle of fear crawling up his spine.
Outside, Jury's vigilance faltered when the still night suddenly stirred. A rustle in the treetops. His gaze shot upward — and froze. There, silhouetted against the pale moon, was Nyx. Not walking, not climbing — flying. He leapt from tree to tree, his body a blur of inhuman speed, his cloak whipping like the wings of a phantom. Jury's eyes widened in terror. His throat tried to form a scream, but when the sound finally tore out of him, it shattered the night like glass. The guard's lantern swung. A dog barked.
Inside, Joey cursed under his breath. "Damn it — the guard's awake." Their mission shattered in an instant. They abandoned the search and fled through the corridors, bursting out into the frosty air. There, by the hospital's outer gate, they found Jury collapsed in the snow, his body trembling violently. Stacy dropped to her knees, shaking him. "Jury! What happened?" But when his eyes opened, no words came. His lips moved, his throat strained, but only silence escaped. The boy had lost his voice, swallowed by shock. They carried him, nearly dragging his limp weight back to Stacy's house, fear gripping all their hearts.
By the warmth of her lamp, Jury's trembling hands clutched at paper and pencil. Slowly, shakily, he scrawled his truth. Nyx is not human. I saw him flying. From tree to tree, higher than a man could ever leap. His hand broke through the paper at the end of the sentence. Bob leaned back, pale, muttering, "Flying. He's something else. Something supernatural." Joey's jaw tightened as he slammed his fist against the table. "I knew it. He's not Nyx. He's a monster." And for the first time, Stacy didn't argue. Her face was pale, her lips pressed together. The trust she had clung to now cracked under the weight of Jury's silence and scribbled words. A dread certainty settled in the room — Nyx was not who he seemed.
—
Meanwhile, under the emerald glow of the Mirror World's moon, Nyx sat hunched over thick tomes in the candlelit corner of his house. His sharp eyes moved fast, absorbing both law and hunting lessons. He had mastered the basics of sensing prey, the patterns of blood scent, and the judicial codes binding vampires. His mind was a razor's edge, sharpening with each page. Yet when he asked Ron, during a quiet walk back from school, "Are the Bales and the Mares rivals?" Ron's reaction startled him. The boy stiffened, his eyes darting. "How do you know that? Don't… don't ever ask that again. It's forbidden." He left Nyx standing in silence, but the question had already drawn attention.
Later that night, as Nyx sat by his desk, missing the faint voices of his father and great-grandfather, a soft presence touched his shoulder. He turned, cold gaze landing on Nia Mare. Her amber eyes glowed softly, her expression gentle but unreadable. "You're missing someone," she said. Nyx's face hardened. "Why are you here?" His tone was clipped, emotionless. Yet she didn't waver. "Don't hide from me. I can sense feelings. If you want to see the ones you miss, I can show you." He tried to deny her, but her steady eyes pressed against his resolve. Finally, he allowed it. Her hands hovered, and in the emerald glow, images shimmered before him — his father, his great-grandfather, alive in memory. For the first time, his cold eyes softened, even if for a heartbeat. When the vision ended, Nyx turned, his tone edged but quiet. "Why are you really here?"
"To tell you the truth," Nia replied. Her voice was calm, deliberate. "The rivalry between Mares and Bales didn't start with us. My father and their family were once as close as brothers. But when Morvain Mare rose higher, Andrew and Joseph's mother grew jealous. She plotted to replace my father's power with her husband's. She failed. Saya Mare discovered her schemes, and the head judges cast the Bale family down to hunters." Nyx listened, expression unreadable, though his mind raced.
At that moment, the door creaked open. Joseph Bale stepped inside, his eyes sharp as knives. "That story's a lie. The truth is reversed. It was Saya who betrayed our father — not my mother. She plotted, succeeded, and destroyed us. That's why your family stands high while we scrape in the dirt." His voice was thick with venom. Nyx immediately straightened, his tone cutting. "Nia, leave." Their eyes locked — hers soft, reluctant, his firm, commanding. She obeyed, departing with one last lingering glance.
The room tensed with Joseph's fury, but Nyx held his composure, his voice cold and even. "This rivalry is not mine. I want no part in it. Your feud is your own. I remain neutral." Joseph scoffed, mocking. "Neutral? You don't even know what family means. Mares and Bales — we are mule families, patched together with blood bonds and betrayal. Do you know how your precious Nia and Carl came to be?" He leaned closer, his voice a hiss. "They were Morvain and Heer Mare's true children. Heer left after Saya seduced Morvain. Saya brought her own brats, Rieta and Zess, into the family, binding them by blood. That's the truth of your siblings. Stepblood. Divided blood. No family at all."
Nyx said nothing at first, his golden eyes narrowing like a blade unsheathed. Inside, his mind carved every word into memory, sorting truth from lies, building the map of this fractured world. On the outside, his voice remained glacial. "I asked for clarity, not a sermon. Keep your bitterness to yourself, Joseph. You've given me what I needed." Then, as the tension broke, Nyx turned his back, the candlelight flickering against his cold silhouette. Joseph's fists clenched, but he left, muttering curses under his breath. Alone again, Nyx's thoughts lingered on Nia's gaze, on Joseph's venom, and on the secrets he would unravel piece by piece — no matter how deep they ran.