Nyx stood alone on the high balcony of the mirror-world castle, the chill of the night air wrapping around him like a cloak of frost, yet his body remained still, statuesque, unmoving except for the subtle tightening of his jaw. The emerald green moon hung heavy in the sky, its glow spilling across the dark valley like liquid jade, casting strange patterns against the marble railing he leaned upon. His eyes, sharp and cold as winter glass, locked onto that strange celestial body, and for the first time in a long while, his chest tightened with unease.
A sudden wave of dizziness struck him, and in that trance, a vision unfolded—vivid and impossible to ignore. He saw himself not in this fractured world but in the human realm, adorned in sacred attire, standing beneath a holy arch of white flowers as Nia Mare walked toward him, veiled and radiant, their hands bound together in a union that felt far too real to be an illusion. The chanting of unseen voices rang in his ears, and he felt the weight of vows pressed into his soul. The moment shattered like glass, leaving his skin clammy with sweat. Nyx clenched the railing until his knuckles paled, forcing his breath steady, reminding himself that moons often lied, that visions were but tricks of fate. Yet still, the image of Nia lingered, gnawing at his iron heart, and against his will, his thoughts slid toward Stacy's fragile smile, Joey's loud laughter, and Bob's clumsy warmth—the things he once considered trivial but now missed like air.
Meanwhile, in the human world, Stacy lay restless upon her bed, her room dimly lit by a small lamp whose golden halo flickered with every gust of the night wind pressing against the windowpane. Her hands trembled as she clasped her father's framed photograph, eyes swollen from the tears she thought had already dried. The image of Nyx—or the boy she believed to be Nyx—kept intruding into her thoughts, splitting her chest with confusion. She wanted to believe in him, in the warmth he suddenly showed, but every piece of evidence whispered otherwise, reminding her that this was not the Nyx she had known, not the boy whose coldness had carved deep scars into her. She pressed her face into the pillow, muffling a scream, her heart torn between betrayal and budding affection. How could she not recognize the real Nyx? How could her love have been so blind, so deceived? Her doubts gnawed at her conscience, yet her heart betrayed her, replaying moments when his smile had felt genuine, his voice soft enough to mend her broken edges. The struggle left her hollow, a prisoner in the battlefield of love and suspicion, her tears soaking into silence while the green moonlight painted her wall with accusing shadows.
Joey, on the other hand, did not struggle with doubt but with certainty. He sat on the rooftop of his home, legs crossed, his arms resting over his knees as his gaze followed the same emerald moon that haunted Nyx and Stacy. His heart ached, not for himself, but for the friend he believed lost—the original Nyx whose sharp, cold presence, though ruthless, had been familiar, dependable in its own way. He knew, with every fiber of his being, that the boy walking among them was a stranger wearing Nyx's face, no matter how convincingly he smiled or how kindly he spoke. The ache in Joey's chest deepened, spreading like fire into his lungs as memories of laughter, quarrels, and battles shared with the true Nyx danced before his eyes. His fists tightened, and with a sharp exhale, he whispered into the night, "Where are you, brother?" For a fleeting moment, the sky seemed to respond, casting the glow of the emerald moon across his tear-lined cheeks.
In the silent world above, three hearts connected by distance and circumstance—Nyx, Stacy, and Joey—all lifted their eyes to the same deceptive light, and though none of them could see the other, the collage of their longing formed a picture too tragic for the heavens to ignore.
As dawn spilled its pale fingers across the human realm, Jamie—still hidden behind Nyx's face—strode into the crowded school corridors, his steps measured, his posture composed, yet his heart rattling against his ribs with unspoken tension. The chatter of students swirled around him, and yet all noise seemed to falter when Jury, a timid classmate, caught his gaze. The boy froze as though struck by lightning, his face draining of blood, eyes wide with a fear that bordered on terror. Jamie felt the weight of suspicion pressing upon him, the silent question in Jury's stare: Who are you really? Before Jamie could close the distance, curiosity burning in his chest, Joey and Bob appeared at his side, intercepting his movement with casual grins that poorly hid their intent. "We're heading to Newshire later," Joey said, his tone too smooth, too rehearsed. "It's a new town, a place unlike anything you've seen—want to come with us?" Bob added with false cheer, eyes darting toward Stacy, who lingered nearby, her expression carefully unreadable. Jamie blinked, hesitation clouding his face, but the eagerness to belong, to maintain this fragile masquerade, nudged him into agreement.
Before the moment could ease, Miss Anora entered the room, her heels clicking sharply, voice stern as she demanded the submission of Mr. Gooslin's assignments. Jamie's pulse thundered; he had not written a single line. His throat tightened as he prepared to weave a spell to conjure the work, but before he could, Stacy's hand slid across his desk, placing a neatly written paper before him. Her eyes, however, were not warm—they were narrowed, questioning, her lips curved in the faintest frown. Jamie felt the floor shift beneath him, his borrowed identity trembling under her silent scrutiny, though outwardly he forced the faintest smile.
Far away in the mirror world, the real Nyx walked through the stone corridors of his school, his cold gaze catching on the shimmer of a golden cape that billowed proudly across Carl Mare's shoulders. His brows furrowed slightly, a twitch of irritation beneath his composed mask. Nia's voice broke the moment, her tone gentle and warm, as she greeted him with a smile that brightened the dim hallway. "Sit with me today," she said, her hand brushing the edge of his sleeve in invitation. Nyx followed her without a word, sliding into the seat beside her with calculated calmness, though his eyes returned to Carl's radiant cape. "Why is his different?" Nyx asked, his voice low, his gaze never leaving the golden cloth. Nia leaned closer, her hair falling softly against her cheek, her whisper carrying pride and admiration. "Because he's the most brilliant of us all. Those capes are awarded in the annual exams. They're almost impossible. We barely pass. Carl doesn't just pass—he tops them, always." Nyx's lips curved faintly, but not with admiration; it was a frown, the shadow of competition stirring within him. "I like those capes," he muttered, the words edged with something sharper than casual interest. Nia laughed, a sound like bells ringing in defiance of his seriousness. "You can't take it from Carl. He's untouchable." Nyx's eyes narrowed slightly as the teacher began the lesson, speaking of the laws of bonds and love among their kind. The reminder that vampires could not reproduce, but could still share eternal mates, unsettled Nyx in ways he refused to show. His gaze drifted once more to Nia, and when her eyes met his, the world felt too small, too heavy, too alive with unspoken promises.
Joey and Bob had cornered Stacy behind the school after classes ended, their faces shadowed by both urgency and frustration. Joey's voice was sharp, almost a whisper but cutting through her hesitation like a blade. "Don't act strange around him," he warned, glancing toward the hallway where Jamie—still veiled in Nyx's identity—was laughing lightly at something a classmate said. "If he senses anything, he'll analyze us, and we'll lose the chance to prove he's a fake." Bob, more hesitant but no less worried, nodded in agreement, his round eyes flickering between them nervously. Stacy pressed her lips together, arms folded tightly across her chest as though holding herself together. Inside her, the storm raged louder than ever, because part of her wanted to believe in the boy she saw, the one who helped her when she cried, the one who smiled at her as though she mattered more than anyone else. But the evidence loomed like a wall she could not climb. "How could I have loved him without knowing who he was?" she muttered, more to herself than to them. Joey's jaw clenched, his grief and suspicion bleeding into anger. He gripped her shoulder, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Because you wanted him to be someone he never was," he said harshly. Stacy turned away, her throat tight, while Bob shuffled uncomfortably, caught between his loyalty to Joey and his sympathy for her confusion. Above them, the late afternoon sun dipped lower, casting long shadows across the courtyard, as if even the world itself was divided on who truly walked among them.
In the mirror world, Nyx returned home from his lessons, his expression impassive yet his mind restless. The lecture on bonds still echoed in his ears, especially the part about eternal mates, the unbreakable link between two souls. He did not believe in such frivolities, at least not outwardly, yet the image of Nia's eyes locking with his kept replaying, steady as a heartbeat. As he stepped into his chamber, Nia appeared in the doorway, hesitant yet radiant, her golden gown shimmering like candlelight. "I can't stop thinking about your eyes," she confessed softly, her voice trembling between courage and vulnerability. For the first time, Nyx faltered. His cold mask cracked, heat creeping up his neck as an unfamiliar blush stole across his face. He turned his head sharply, as though focusing on some invisible point beyond her, unwilling to let her see the storm her words caused inside him. "Go home," he muttered, though his voice lacked the edge it usually carried. Nia tilted her head, amused, almost playful, but chose not to press him further. With a smile that lingered like the aftertaste of something forbidden, she stepped back into the hall, leaving him to his silence. Nyx closed the door slowly, his hands tightening at his sides, and leaned against it as though bracing himself against a force larger than any enemy he had ever fought. His heart betrayed him, beating too fast, too loud, too alive for the coldness he swore to maintain.
Meanwhile, in the human world, Jamie's eyes widened as the car crossed the threshold into Newshire, and the sight before him nearly stole the air from his lungs. Unlike the green-bricked, modest towns he had grown accustomed to, this place was alive with glittering lights and impossible structures. Flying cars zipped above glowing highways, skyscrapers pierced the clouds, and holograms danced across glass towers, welcoming citizens with cheerful voices generated by artificial intelligence. The streets hummed with life, alive with colors and sounds Jamie had never imagined. He turned his head slowly, his brown hair catching the glint of neon signs, his gaze filled with awe he could not mask. Bob noticed, elbowing Joey with a smirk. "Look at him. He's staring like he's never seen a city before." Joey's smirk didn't reach his eyes; suspicion carved deeper into his mind. He leaned toward Stacy, his whisper harsh. "Maybe he's an alien." Stacy's lips parted, her brows furrowing as she shook her head firmly. "No. Whatever he is, he's not that. I can feel it." Jamie, oblivious to their quiet exchange, pressed his palm against the car window, childlike wonder softening his face. For a fleeting second, he felt free, lost in marvels that dulled the weight of deception, though the eyes behind him never let him forget he was a stranger in borrowed skin.
Later that evening, as they wandered through the buzzing streets of Newshire, Jamie turned to Stacy, his voice gentle but laced with determination. "Come with me. Let's take a ride." Stacy hesitated, her brows knitting. "You don't even know how to drive." Her tone carried suspicion, though a hint of amusement touched the corners of her lips. Jamie's grin was confident, playful. "I've just learned. Trust me." Against her better judgment, curiosity and longing overpowered her doubt, and she followed him to a row of vehicles available for rent. He selected a sleek bike, the chrome glinting under neon lights, and gestured for her to climb behind him. The moment her arms wrapped around his waist, a shiver coursed through her, her anger dissolving into warmth she couldn't fight. The bike roared to life, carrying them into the labyrinth of light and speed. The wind whipped against her face, pulling her hair into wild streams, but the only thing she truly felt was the steady pulse of his body beneath her grip. Slowly, her scowl melted, replaced with a smile she hadn't felt in months. She pressed closer, her cheek brushing his back, surrendering to the illusion that perhaps he was real, that perhaps this version of Nyx was the one her heart had always longed for. For those fleeting moments, her doubt drowned in exhilaration, and her love reawakened, fragile yet undeniable, blooming in the shadows of a lie.
The true reason for their trip, however, weighed heavily on Joey and Bob's minds. While Stacy laughed behind Jamie on the bike, Joey and Bob slipped away with a small sealed packet containing two samples—strands of Nyx's father's hair and one pulled stealthily from the boy now living among them. Their footsteps echoed through the sterile corridors of Newshire's hospital, the fluorescent lights above buzzing faintly, as though aware of the secrets being carried within. They handed the packet to a grim-faced technician, who assured them the DNA test would reveal the truth they sought. "It will take a few days," the technician said, tucking the samples into a machine that whirred like a beast waking from slumber. Bob fidgeted nervously, eager for distraction. "Let's go to the carnival," he pleaded, eyes wide with childlike hope. Joey's hand clamped firmly onto his shoulder. "No. Not yet. Focus." His words were sharp, but even he could not ignore the distant sounds of laughter, the smell of sweets, and the glow of rides calling from across the city. Secrets might be buried in hospitals, but temptations thrived in carnivals. And sooner or later, even Joey knew, they would have to give in.
Jamie's laughter rang out as he pulled the bike to a stop near the glowing gates of the carnival, Bob seated behind him, his face alight with awe. The sight of towering wheels, spinning rides, and glowing stalls filled Bob's eyes with childlike wonder, as though every dream had come to life before him. "I knew you'd want this," Jamie said, his voice carrying a warmth that didn't belong to Nyx. Stacy and Joey, arriving moments later, watched as Bob darted toward a game booth, his excitement contagious. Slowly, against their own judgment, the four of them surrendered to the night, weaving through rides, sharing sweets, and laughing in ways they hadn't for years. For a brief, fragile span of hours, their suspicions, grief, and secrets melted into pure friendship, the kind they had once shared without doubt. Stacy's heart betrayed her yet again, drawn to the version of Nyx who smiled at her, who carried her bag, who looked at the fireworks as though they were miracles. Joey, too, though still suspicious, found himself almost comforted by the laughter echoing around him, and Bob's unshakable joy sealed the night as one of bittersweet peace. None of them spoke of the test, of their plan, or of the truth they sought. Tonight, the carnival lights painted them whole, and for once, even the lie felt like home.
Back in the mirror world, a far different scene unfolded. Joseph lay pale and broken upon the infirmary bed, his breaths shallow, his body trembling as though the life was slipping out of him grain by grain. Andrew's voice cracked as he spoke to Nyx, his words trembling. "He… he might not last the night." Nyx, cold and unmoving in every other moment, felt something raw claw through his chest. His fists clenched at his sides, his face hard, yet his eyes betrayed him, glassy with unspoken pain. He had never allowed anyone to see his heart before, but when Nia entered the room, she saw what no one else had—Nyx's first tears. Her own chest tightened, the sight piercing her like a blade. She stepped forward, laying a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I can heal him," she whispered, though her voice trembled with reluctance. She didn't want to give that part of herself away, but for him, she would. Closing her eyes, she let her power flow into Joseph, a golden light pouring from her palms into his fragile form. Slowly, his breathing steadied, color returning to his cheeks. Nyx's hand brushed against hers as he whispered hoarsely, "Thank you." He pulled her into an embrace, his usually rigid body trembling against hers. For the first time, Nia saw not the cold, unreachable Nyx, but the boy behind the steel.
Later that night, Nyx and Nia sat upon the same balcony where the emerald moon had once deceived him. The air was cooler, softer, and the silence between them was heavy with unspoken words. Nyx leaned against the railing, his face turned upward, his eyes reflecting the green glow as though trying to pierce its secrets. "Joseph is my closest friend," he admitted, his voice low, his tone stripped of its usual cold armor. "I couldn't bear to lose him." Nia, seated beside him, rested her chin upon her knees, her eyes shimmering with something she hadn't felt before. When she glanced at him, he hesitated, then added quietly, "I saw something… a glimpse of the future. You and me. Together. Married." His words hung in the air, heavier than stone. Nia's cheeks burned, her heart skipping, and yet she managed to laugh softly, though it carried nerves. "This moon is naughty sometimes," she replied gently. "It tricks you into believing what isn't real." She met his gaze for one suspended moment, her eyes soft and knowing, before she rose gracefully, spreading her wings as the emerald glow wrapped her in light. "Don't let it deceive you too much," she whispered before flying into the night. Nyx remained, his chest hollow yet burning, the silence swallowing him whole.
When Nyx finally collapsed into uneasy sleep, his dreams turned cruel. He saw Stacy pressed against Jamie's lips, her eyes closed in surrender, her body trembling with affection he had never known from her. He saw Joey and Bob laughing freely with Jamie, arms slung around his shoulders as though he had alwaysbeen one of them, as though he had replaced him entirely. The image tore through Nyx like fire, burning away the cold composure he prided himself on.
He jolted awake, breath ragged, sweat beading across his brow, fear and fury entangling in his chest. His jaw tightened, his eyes dark with resolve. "What if he takes my place?" he muttered into the silence, the fear echoing louder than he intended. Restless, he wandered through the corridors of the castle until he stumbled upon the ancient library, its shelves looming like guardians of forbidden truths. His fingers brushed across dusty tomes until they landed on a cracked leather spine—the Book of Blood. He opened it, eyes devouring the words that spoke of portals, of witches, of power that could bend worlds. A dangerous idea rooted itself in his mind. If the portal could not be made by his hands alone, then perhaps a witch could be tricked into crafting it for him. His lips curved into a cold, determined smirk. Jamie's masquerade would end, no matter the cost. The game was no longer about patience—it was war.