The Nightshade Manor loomed over the Ashenvale forest, its towering spires wreathed in ivy that curled like grasping fingers against weathered stone. The moonlight barely touched its darkened fa?ade, swallowed by the same shadows that whispered through its halls. It was more than just a home—it was a fortress, an echo of centuries past, pulsing with the weight of its legacy.

  Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old parchment, wax, and the faint iron tang of blood. The dim glow of enchanted lanterns barely reached the corners of Elias's chamber, casting restless shadows over his reflection in the ornate mirror. His amber eyes, dulled by thoughts too heavy to voice, traced the angles of his face—a face that bore the Nightshade name yet felt like a stranger's.

  His fingers curled against the velvet sheets, the ghost of remembered laughter pressing against his skull. In his mind, he saw them—his younger kin sprinting past him with ease, their movements a blur of inhuman speed. Damien's laughter, deep and effortless, as he lifted a boulder Elias could barely budge. Selene's graceful tracking, her precision so razor-sharp it made his own instincts feel dull, useless.

  A muscle in his jaw tensed. His parents' silhouettes loomed in his thoughts—Alaric, his father, standing like an unshakable pillar of command, a mere glance from his scarlet eyes enough to silence defiance. Morgana, his mother, gliding through life with an unsettling grace, her foresight sharper than any blade. Together, they were the perfect embodiment of the Duskwraith Coven's ideals.

  And Elias?

  His grip tightened. The glass of garnet liquid trembled in his hand before he took a slow sip. The warmth barely reached him, drowned by the cold tide of inadequacy clawing up his throat.

  Beyond the door, footsteps ghosted over the polished floors, light and deliberate. Elias didn't need heightened senses to recognize the pattern. Selene. Even the way she moved was effortless.

  A knock followed, soft yet certain.

  "Elias? Are you in there sulking again?" Her voice carried that teasing lilt, but beneath it lay something else—something that pricked at the edges of his pride.

  His fingers slackened around the glass, setting it down with a muted thud. "I'm not sulking," he muttered. "Just... thinking."

  The door eased open, the dim radiance of arcane sigils catching the auburn strands of Selene's hair, their soft glow tempering the sharp confidence she carried like a shield. She leaned against the frame, arms crossed, one brow arched in quiet amusement.

  "You've been up here for hours," she said. "What's going on?"

  Elias stared at the intricate patterns carved into the wooden floor, tracing them with his gaze as if they might offer an answer. "Nothing. Just tired."

  Selene exhaled through her nose, a knowing sound. "You're not a good liar, you know."

  The words sat between them, pressing in, pressing down.

  Something cracked inside Elias—a thread of frustration, a splintering edge of something deeper. His jaw tightened, teeth pressing together hard enough to ache. Fingers curled into the worn fabric of his sleeves, knuckles pale beneath the muted luminescence of the arcane sconces.

  Amber eyes flicked up, meeting Selene's emerald gaze. The glow in them was subdued, the usual sharpness softened in the flickering light.

  "It's nothing new, Selene," he muttered, voice taut like a drawn bowstring. "Just the same thing it's always been."

  Selene's smirk wavered, amusement slipping into a quieter emotion, something almost cautious. She moved without a sound, the floorboards murmuring under her bare feet as she settled beside him. The space between them was barely there, yet it felt like an ocean.

  "You're thinking about them again, aren't you?"

  She didn't have to say their names. They hung in the air between them, unspoken yet suffocating. Damien, the eldest—his voice alone could shatter stone, his strength a force of nature. Lucien, the youngest—a streak of movement too quick to follow, laughing as he danced just out of reach. Even Selene, always a step ahead, always precise, could track a heartbeat through a forest drowning in shadow.

  And their parents—unyielding, untouchable. The weight of their legacy pressed against Elias's ribs like an iron cage, squeezing the breath from his lungs.

  "I'm not like you." The words escaped before he could swallow them down, quiet and raw. As if saying them too loudly would make them cut deeper. "I'm not like any of you. I don't belong here."

  Selene didn't hesitate. Her hand found his knee, firm but not forceful—a steadying anchor. "That's not true."

  A bitter laugh scraped past Elias's throat. "Do you even hear yourself?" He shook his head, fingers gripping his sleeves tighter, like they were the only things holding him together.

  "I'm slower than the most inexperienced recruits. I can barely lift anything heavier than a godsdamned boulder, and half the time, I miss things I should've noticed a mile away." His breath hitched, frustration spilling into his words. "I'm a weak link in a clan full of warriors."

  Selene frowned, her gaze searching his face, the dim glow casting shadows beneath her furrowed brow. "You're not a weak link."

  Her fingers tightened slightly, hesitant before she continued. "You're just..." The pause stretched, her grip lingering in silent reassurance. "Different."

  Elias tore away from her touch, pushing to his feet. The room felt too small, too suffocating. He paced, hands raking through his dark hair, frustration bleeding through every tense movement.

  "Different isn't good enough. Not here. Not in this family." His breath hitched, but he forced himself to continue, voice breaking at the edges. "Every time Father looks at me, I see it. Disappointment. He doesn't have to say it. I know he wishes I was more like Damien. Like Lucien. Hell, even like you."

  Selene stood as well, her movements deliberate, unwavering. "Father doesn't think that."

  Elias turned on her, exasperation flaring hot in his veins. "You don't know that!" The words lashed out, sharp as a blade. "And even if he doesn't, I do. I know I'm not enough."

  Silence wrapped around them, thick and heavy. The only sound was the whisper of wind beyond the walls, rustling through the trees outside.

  Selene's voice, when it came, was quieter. "You're measuring yourself by the wrong standards." She stepped closer, her presence steady, unshaken. "Strength, speed, heightened senses—they're useful. But they're not everything. You have something none of us do."

  Elias scoffed. "And what's that?"

  Selene smiled faintly. "You think before you act. You care. Damien rushes into fights without thinking, Lucien hides behind arrogance, and I..." Her voice faltered, just for a moment. "I do what I must. But you see things differently. You notice what others don't."

  His chest tightened. He wanted to believe her. He wanted to hold onto those words, but they slipped through his fingers like sand. "That doesn't mean anything here," he whispered. "This clan doesn't need someone who 'cares.' It needs warriors."

  Selene was quiet for a moment, then nodded. "Maybe." She turned slightly, the low glow reflecting in her eyes. "But warriors need someone who can see beyond the battlefield. And whether you realize it or not, that's what makes you important."

  Elias swallowed hard, doubt coiling in his stomach, heavy as stone.

  Selene straightened. "Come with me."

  Elias frowned. "Where?"

  "The training grounds," Selene said, already turning toward the door. "You've been brooding for hours. Time to do something about it."

  Reluctantly, he followed her down the winding halls of the manor, their footsteps echoing against cold stone. The scent of night-blooming flowers drifted through the open archways, mingling with the crisp bite of the midnight air as they stepped into the training yard. Pale luminance spilled across the worn combat grounds, casting silver halos around the figures already sparring in the center.

  Damien and Lucien moved like twin shadows, their forms blurring with unnatural speed. Damien sidestepped a strike in a heartbeat, then caught Lucien mid-lunge, twisting his brother's momentum against him. With effortless strength, he slammed Lucien onto the ground. Dust kicked up in lazy spirals as Lucien let out a sharp grunt.

  "Not fast enough," Damien said, grinning as he extended a hand.

  Lucien grabbed it, yanking himself up with a smirk. "You're just lucky I let you catch me."

  Selene nudged Elias forward. "Join them."

  Elias stiffened. "What? No. I'm not—"

  "You're not going to get any better sulking in your room," Selene said, folding her arms as she angled her body toward him, a silent challenge in her stance.

  Before he could argue, Damien turned, golden eyes gleaming under the moonlight. "Well, well. Look who decided to grace us with his presence."

  Lucien's smirk widened, revealing a flash of sharp teeth. "Finally here to show us what you've got, brother?"

  A ripple of quiet laughter spread through the gathered onlookers. Elias's stomach knotted, but he forced himself onto the field. "Fine. Let's get this over with."

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  Damien jerked his chin toward Lucien. "Start with him. He'll go easy on you."

  Lucien cracked his knuckles, the sound like snapping twigs in the still night. "Easy, sure."

  Elias barely had time to shift into position before Lucien vanished. A rush of wind grazed his cheek—then a tap against his shoulder. Spinning, he swung wildly, but Lucien was already gone, a blur in his peripheral vision. Another tap, this time at his back.

  "Too slow," Lucien murmured from behind him.

  Elias whirled, breath coming faster now. He lunged, but Lucien leaped effortlessly over him, landing light as a cat a few feet away.

  "Not bad," Lucien mused, brushing off his sleeve. "For someone trying."

  A chuckle from Damien. "You're going too easy on him."

  Lucien grinned, mischief dancing in his crimson eyes. "Wouldn't want to break him."

  A low murmur rippled through the crowd, the amusement unmistakable. Elias's hands curled into fists. His pulse pounded in his ears, a slow-burning frustration knotting in his chest. He threw himself forward, aiming a strike at Lucien's ribs.

  For a fleeting second, he thought it might land.

  Then Lucien was gone.

  Elias stumbled as his momentum carried him forward. A hand ruffled his hair.

  "Nice try," Lucien said, his tone mocking. "Maybe next time."

  The training yard erupted in laughter, a cruel chorus that gnawed at Elias's pride. Heat crawled up his neck. His jaw tightened as he turned, ready to walk away, but Selene's grip locked around his wrist.

  "No, Elias." Her voice was steady, but the weight behind it was unyielding. "You're not done."

  His anger flared. "What's the point, Selene?" His voice cracked, bitterness thick in his throat. "They're faster. Stronger. Better. I'll never be like them."

  Damien's voice sliced through the air. "Then stop whining and prove it. Or are you going to sulk back to your room again?"

  Lucien gave a mock sigh. "Careful, Damien. He might actually try this time."

  The crowd's laughter stilled, the challenge hanging heavy between them.

  Selene's grip loosened, but her gaze remained locked onto his. "Fight them," she said, quieter this time, but no less firm. "Prove them wrong—or at least prove to yourself that you're willing to try."

  Elias's heartbeat thundered. His fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. Every instinct screamed at him to walk away—to leave before he embarrassed himself further.

  But another voice, smaller yet more insistent, whispered something else.

  Try.

  Gritting his teeth, he turned back to the field. He met Damien's gaze, his stance unshaken, his golden eyes gleaming with something between amusement and interest.

  A hush fell over the crowd as the brothers squared off, the luminous moonlight casting long shadows across the yard. The tension was palpable, every eye fixed on the unlikely challenger.

  Elias lunged, muscles coiled with effort, but Damien moved effortlessly, sidestepping like a wisp of smoke slipping through cracks of light. Elias barely had time to recover before striking again, aiming for Damien's ribs. His fist met nothing but air.

  Damien's footwork was precise—every sidestep measured, every block executed with an ease that sent irritation clawing at Elias's chest. He struck harder, his breath coming in short, ragged bursts, sweat trickling down his spine.

  Damien barely looked winded.

  "Come on, Elias," He murmured, circling him like a predator toying with its prey. "That can't be all you've got."

  Whispers stirred through the watching vampires, their amusement evident.

  "Too slow."

  "He's no match."

  "Why is he even trying?"

  The words sliced through Elias, their weight heavier than any blow. He clenched his jaw, forcing his body to move faster, to hit harder. He lunged again—only for Damien to catch his wrist in a vice-like grip.

  "Predictable," Damien said, his tone laced with disappointment. With a sharp twist, he shoved Elias back. "You're fighting like a desperate man, not a warrior. Strength alone won't save you."

  A flicker of heat burned in Elias's chest. It wasn't just anger—it was something darker, deeper, coiling through his limbs like an ember waiting to ignite. His senses sharpened. The air around him felt charged, heavy.

  Damien hesitated for just a moment. The crowd's murmurs stilled.

  Then—a distant rumble.

  It wasn't loud. It wasn't even close. But it was enough to make Lucien frown, his gaze flicking toward the sky.

  "The weather never changes this fast," he muttered.

  No one paid attention. Their focus remained locked on the fight.

  Damien exhaled sharply, shaking off the brief distraction. "There it is," he said, a smirk curling at his lips. "That little spark of rage. Show me what it can do."

  Elias launched forward, his strikes wilder, faster—no longer bound by hesitation. The crowd gasped as his blows came close, nearly slipping past Damien's defenses. But the deeper he fell into this new sensation, the more control slipped from his grasp.

  A low growl of thunder rolled across the sky.

  "Elias!" Selene's voice rang out, sharp with urgency. "That's enough! Stop!"

  He didn't stop.

  A flash—brief, distant, easily dismissed—lit up the sky.

  Then—a crack of lightning.

  It struck somewhere beyond the training grounds, white-hot and blinding. The sharp boom of impact sent a tremor through the earth. A gust of charged wind swept through the courtyard, stirring attire, sending an eerie shiver through the onlookers.

  Several heads turned toward the distant strike.

  "A storm?"

  "But there were no clouds before—"

  Damien didn't flinch. His focus remained locked on Elias.

  In a single, fluid motion, he caught Elias mid-strike. A blur of movement—then Elias's back slammed against the ground, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. Before he could react, Damien's knee pressed into his chest, pinning him in place.

  "Control it," Damien said, voice low, dangerous. His golden eyes bore into Elias's, unwavering. "Or it will control you."

  The whispers died. The only sound was Elias's ragged breathing, the heat still curling in his veins, still begging to be unleashed.

  Damien held him there a moment longer before finally stepping back, releasing him. The crowd began to drift away, whispering about the storm, unease lingering in their voices.

  Selene crouched beside Elias, her eyes searching his. "I told you to control yourself," she murmured, steady but firm.

  Elias swallowed, staring up at the sky—where the clouds were already thinning, the storm vanishing as quickly as it had come. His body still trembled—not just from exhaustion, but from unnamed force.

  "I can't," he whispered. "I never will."

  Selene's fingers tightened around his shoulder. "Then learn," she said. "Because if you don't, it will destroy you."

  Elias didn't answer. He just lay there, the weight of failure pressing heavier than Damien's grip ever had—while, far above, the last flicker of lightning faded into the night.

  The training grounds lay in heavy silence, the air thick with dust and the lingering tension of battle. Elias stood stiffly, brushing dirt from his tunic, though the ache in his limbs ran deeper than just bruises. His pride stung sharper than any wound.

  Before he could fully steady himself, a voice sliced through the stillness.

  "Inside. Now. All of you."

  The command carried no anger, no raised tone—yet it held a weight that sent an instinctive chill down Elias's spine.

  His head snapped toward the entrance of the grounds. Alaric Nightshade stood there, his imposing frame silhouetted against the moonlit sky. His black cloak barely stirred in the wind, a stark contrast to the quiet menace radiating from him. Scarlet eyes, faintly aglow, swept over the gathered vampires. The hushed voices died instantly. No one dared linger beneath that gaze.

  A hand rested on Elias's shoulder. Selene.

  He didn't need to look to know she was steadying him—perhaps just as much for her own sake.

  The four of them followed their father into the manor, the tension stretching between them like an unspoken warning. The ornate hallways swallowed their footsteps, the polished marble floors reflecting the cold gleam of lantern light. Tall, arched windows bathed the corridors in silver, casting long, restless shadows.

  Inside Alaric's study, their mother was already waiting.

  Morgana Nightshade sat beside the grand desk, poised with effortless elegance. Dark auburn hair framed her face, and sharp amber eyes studied them as they entered. She wasn't an overbearing presence like Alaric, yet there was a quiet authority in the way she carried herself—like a blade sheathed but never dull.

  Her gaze lingered on Elias a fraction longer than the others.

  Alaric gestured for them to stand before him. "There is an important matter to discuss."

  His voice was even, controlled, but no less commanding.

  "Tomorrow, we attend a ceremony in honor of the Protectors."

  Morgana's voice followed, smooth and measured. "The event is hosted by Sentinel—the Guardian of the Eclipse Heart. As you know, the Eclipse Heart is the mediator between our world and the others, ensuring balance and peace at the Luminaries Sanctum."

  Alaric continued, his gaze sharp. "This is not a mere gathering. It is a convergence of power and alliances. The higher members of our coven will be present, as well as leaders from other communities. We, as the Nightshade family, are expected to attend."

  A flicker of unease crossed Elias's face. His brothers remained unreadable, and Selene's expression stayed composed, but the weight of expectation pressed against him.

  "Do I have to go?" The words left his mouth before he could stop them, quieter than he intended.

  Alaric turned to him. The scarlet in his eyes deepened, unreadable yet absolute. "Yes."

  No elaboration. No room for argument.

  "You are a Nightshade. A member of one of the most respected and powerful families in the coven. Your presence is not optional. You will attend, and you will represent our family with the dignity it commands."

  Elias forced himself to hold his father's gaze, though something inside him recoiled.

  Alaric's focus returned to the group. "The eyes of the coven and beyond will be upon us. This is an opportunity to demonstrate our strength. Do not disappoint me."

  "Yes, Father," Damien said smoothly.

  Lucien smirked, tilting his head in a mocking nod. "Understood."

  Selene inclined her head, her voice steady. "We'll be ready."

  Elias hesitated, then lowered his head. "As you wish, Father."

  Alaric gave a single nod, dismissing them with a wave of his hand. "Go. Prepare yourselves. We leave at first light."

  As they stepped into the hallway, the weight of their father's words settled over them like an unseen shroud.

  Lucien broke the silence first, his smirk returning. "Cheer up, Elias. You'll finally get to see how real vampires carry themselves. Should be... educational."

  Selene shot him a sharp look, and the amusement in his expression faded.

  "Focus on preparing," she said, her tone clipped. "We all have a part to play tomorrow."

  Elias remained silent, his mind swirling with doubt and frustration. The ceremony loomed ahead, another stage where he would be judged, scrutinized, and compared. Another chance to fall short.

  As they reached their rooms, Selene stopped him, her hand resting lightly on his arm. "Elias," she said quietly, her voice firm yet kind. "You may feel out of place now, but tomorrow could be a step forward. Don't let fear hold you back."

  Elias didn't respond, his thoughts too clouded. He stepped into his room, closing the door behind him. Alone with his doubts, he stared out the window, the moonlight casting a pale glow on his face. Tomorrow would come, whether he was ready or not. And he would have to face it, just as he faced everything else—with the weight of being a Nightshade pressing heavily on his shoulders.

  The next morning, the family gathered in the grand driveway. A fleet of black Mercedes awaited them, their polished surfaces gleaming in the pale light of dawn. Alaric and Morgana entered the lead car, leaving the siblings to take the one behind.

  Elias slid into the backseat beside Selene, while Lucien claimed the driver's seat with an easy confidence. Damien lounged in the passenger seat, fingers drumming idly against the dashboard.

  As the cars pulled onto the winding road, Damien glanced back, his lips quirking into a grin. "You look like you're heading to your own funeral, Elias. Don't worry—we'll all be there to watch."

  Lucien grinned at Elias's reflection in the rearview mirror. "Honestly, I don't get why you even have to come. It's not like your presence is going to change anything. You're not exactly the backbone of the family."

  Elias's jaw clenched.

  Before he could respond, Selene's voice sliced through the tension.

  "Enough, Lucien. If you're trying to compensate for something, pick a better target."

  Lucien scoffed but turned his attention back to the road. "I'm just saying—if he stayed behind, would anyone even notice?"

  Selene's eyes sharpened as she shot him a glare. "Father expects us all to act like a family today. Try not to embarrass yourself before we even get there."

  Damien chuckled, leaning back. "She's got a point, Lucien. Maybe focus on not wrecking the car instead of stirring up trouble."

  Elias sank deeper into his seat, staring out the window. The tension between them settled into an uneasy silence, broken only by the hum of the engine and the faint rustling of the trees outside.

  Three hours later, the convoy of Nightshade vehicles pulled up to the Luminaries Sanctum.

  Elias stepped out, his boots touching the stone pavement with an unsettling finality. The air here felt different—charged with an unseen force, something vast.

  His siblings gathered around him, their earlier banter fading in the shadow of the Sanctum's grandeur. But for Elias, a strange weight settled in his chest—an unshakable sense that today would mark the beginning of something that would change his life forever.