Not the Hero, Not the Villain — Just the One Who Wins

The wind on the summit of the Dragon's Tooth was a blade of ice. It whipped around the jagged, black-rock spire, its mournful howl the only sound in the vast, empty expanse of the night sky. The twin moons hung low and heavy, their silvery light casting our two figures in a stark, ethereal glow, our shadows stretching long and skeletal on the ground between us.

Silas stood at the very edge of the plateau, his form a silhouette against the backdrop of the star-dusted heavens. The unassuming, scholarly boy from the Academy was gone, replaced by a creature of quiet, confident power. His dark, leather armor seemed to drink the moonlight, and his eyes, the color of a starless, midnight sky, burned with an intelligence that was as ancient as it was profound.

His quiet musings, melodious hum which was a stark, beautiful contrast to the raw, untamed wilderness that surrounded us, still lingered between the two of us, there, palpable, a living thing. "A proper...family reunion."

I did not draw my sword. I did not summon my shadows. I simply... waited. The draconic core in my chest beat a slow, steady rhythm, a silent, powerful drum that was a perfect, and very dangerous, counterpoint to the frantic, chaotic beating of my own human heart.

"You are not the first," Silas said, his own voice a low, conversational thing, as if we were two old friends catching up after a long, and very strange, absence. "To be... misplaced. There are others. More than you can imagine."

He turned to face me then, his own eyes, for the first time, filled not with the quiet, watchful intelligence of a scholar, but with a cold, hard, and very real, hunger. "We are a scattered family," he continued, his own voice a low, silken purr. "Souls from a thousand different worlds, a thousand different lives, all reborn into this one. We are the echoes of a war that was fought long before this world was even born. A war between gods and devils, between creators and destroyers. A war that is not yet over."

I was mute, my own mind a battlefield of chaotic clashes in assorted emotions. Reincarnators. A cosmic war. Such enigma, unbelievably great, it was at the point of shattering my uniquely constructed reality.

"In fact, the original Ashen Crimson," Silas murmured, his tone hushed and almost reverent, "was one of us. He was not just a player in this game; he was a king. A being of such profound and very dangerous power that even the gods and devils who sponsored us feared him. He was a sovereign of shadow and flame, a creature who walked the fine, razor's edge between creation and destruction. And he was..." on our side."

"On our side?" I asked slowly, my voice a low, guarded thing.

"In fact, it is," responded Silas while recognizing my question with low pride: "the House of Nocturne." The House of Nocturne. The Vampire Academy. More than just a school, Kai. It is a refuge. A repository for lost, broken bits that don't really belong on this earth. Kingdom of shadows; a freedom where we-the echoes of a forgotten world-come to be free."

He stepped closer; his own eyes filled for the first time with quiet desperation, and very real, plea. "But when he died," he said, his own voice a low, painful whisper, "our family was left without a king. The house was left without a master. And the other factions, the other families... they began to circle, like wolves sensing a kill."

He gestured with his hand to the world below, to the distant, sleeping lands of the Nowa Empire, to the fiery, proud kingdom of Pyronis. "The House of Sol," he said, in a voice that sounded like a low, dangerous growl. "The ones who worship the light, who believe in a world of order, of justice, of a single, unyielding truth. They are the ones who sponsored the hero, Rin. They are the ones who seek to extinguish the shadows, to bring all the scattered, broken pieces of this world under their own, singular rule."

"And the House of Ignis," he continued. "The dragonkin of Pyronis. They are not players in this game, not in the same way we are. They are... a force of nature. A wild, untamed power that can be either a devastating weapon, or a catastrophic, world-ending disaster."

He looked at me then, his own gaze steady and unwavering. "And then, there is you," he said, his own voice a low, final, and utterly devastating blow. "The echo of our lost king. The heir to a throne you did not know existed. You are the key, Kai. You are the one who can restore the balance, who can lead our family out of the darkness."

He extended his hand, as if to signify an invitation to alliance and fate-shared, and shunning-a very dangerous one. "Join us," he said, low, sincere, "join the House of Nocturne. Together... together, we will not just survive this war. We will win it."

The offer, in its beautiful, terrible, and very seductive simplicity, hung in the air between us, a tangible, living thing. A family. A home. A purpose. Everything I had ever craved.

I met his gaze shadowy-gray and just huge, stormy eyes, like the tempest of sea. However, it was stony and calm desperation that brought all its hope to my knowledge there was neither brother nor king but a zealot; a true believer; a man who had, in effect, traded himself for the promise of a great collective soul.

And I was sure beyond the rising of the twin moons that I will not and could not be part of it.

"You are wrong," I said, my voice calm but low as an undulation as contrast, starkly beautiful, against the raw and wild wilderness around us. "We are not the same."

Silas's smile didn't falter; a flash of confusion that might have been surprise or disappointment was visible on his face. "And why is that?"

Because you, "so cold and hard was my voice," said Silas, "are a soldier. A soldier that believes in his cause and family, even for a king whom he never met. But for me... I fight for myself... for a small, fragile, and very real, piece of the world that I succeeded to carve out for myself. I fight for Yumi. I fight for Christina. I fight for the quiet, difficult, and often painful, art of mending what is broken."

"I am not a king," I said in my own quiet, unbreakable vow: "And I am not a soldier. I am a father. I am a protector. And I will not sacrifice the ones I love for a war that is not my own." A step forward, the Black Sword of Ruin, a silent but hungry promise, at my back.

The silence that followed was a profound, an absolute thing, a stillness that was broken only by the sound of wind, a low, intermittent howl that seemed to echo the sorrows of a thousand different lost souls.

Silas's smile faded at last, replaced with a look of quiet, contemplative sadness. "I see," he said, in a low, regretful whisper. "Then you have made your choice."

"I have," I simply replied, firm and unwavering tones in my own voice. "Then you are a fool," he said in a low dangerous thing, "you are a king who has refused his crown. And in this world... a king without a kingdom is nothing more than a target."

He did not attack. He did not threaten. He simply... changed. The quiet, unassuming scholar, the polite, academic transfer student, the zealous, true believer… they all fell away, leaving behind only the raw, untamed power of a being that was not quite human, not quite vampire, but something else entirely.

It began glowing in the air above him, in an unknown place. "It ripped," spoke the invisible tongue of his aura. Shudders, boundless shadow on the ground, stood still and silent but came to life, writhing and coiling around him, as if they were responding to the call of their true master. His eyes, his eyes had no more contained stormy sea; instead, it was as if a void opened in starless midnight and burned with a power both ancient and profound.

"I will not kill you yet, Kai," he murmured lowly, gathering in his now-more real, dangerous, melodic hum threat. "You are too precious, too... interesting. But I will show you reality in this world. And I will show you what it really means to be completely and utterly alone."

And he was gone. He did not teleport. He didn't vanish in a puff of smoke. He just... faded away, the last vestiges of his being dissolving into the shadows, leaving me alone on the cold, windswept summit of the Dragon's Tooth mountains, under the suffocating weight of his impossible, and very dangerous, revelation on my shoulders.

It is turning even more dangerous in this game. A lot worse was to come, I had decided about the Vampire Academy.