The Chains Beneath the Mask

Beatrix Oriana stood on the roof of the eastern tower of Mystic Falls Academy, her silver hair glinting beneath the pale moonlight. Below her, the academy glowed with lanterns, but none reached this high. Up here, she could breathe.

Or pretend to.

The metal gauntlet on her right hand pulsed softly—alive with etched runes only she could read. A contract binding. Her eyes flicked toward her palm, where a faint sigil burned: Cain Siegfried.

No, she corrected silently. Cain Azaroth.

She clenched her fist.

The contract had failed. Worse—it had reversed. She had meant to enslave him, to bind him as leverage for her father. Instead, the moment her Essence made contact, something ancient, dark, and absolute had coiled around her soul.

She was his now.

She hadn't told her father. Not yet.

Not because of shame—but because a part of her didn't want to.

---

An hour later, Beatrix stepped through a hidden doorway beneath the library's cellar—an old servant's tunnel that led beneath the academy into one of many underground passages forgotten by most. At its end, a sealed vault door opened with a whisper as she pressed her hand to it.

She entered a hexagonal chamber lit by hovering metallic spheres. Waiting for her, cloaked in red and iron-gray, were three men seated at a stone table. Her father sat at the center.

Grand Duke Etheon Oriana.

His presence was like a glacier—cold, unmoving, unmerciful. His eyes met hers.

"You're late."

Beatrix didn't flinch. "Security sweep. I had to take the old tunnels."

One of the men beside her father—Lord Brelmir of the Iron Eye—spoke first. "And the subject? The boy?"

Beatrix paused. The air was thicker down here. Her throat felt tight.

"Cain Siegfried is not who he says he is."

Etheon's eyes narrowed. "Go on."

"He has fire, yes. But there's something… darker in him. When I invoked the Contract of Fellowship, my spell reversed. Instantly. Without resistance. Something in him devoured it."

Brelmir leaned forward. "You were bound?"

Beatrix hesitated, then nodded. "I serve him now. In name only."

Etheon's gaze burned into her. "You're bound how, exactly?"

Beatrix looked down. "Not like a slave. It's something else. A shadow in the shape of a man lives inside him… and it protects him. Violently. I believe it's tied to his lineage."

Etheon stood, his robes hissing like serpents. "Then it's true. The Azaroth bloodline survives."

The other men murmured. "Impossible—Laurifer himself—"

"I was there," Etheon snapped. "I helped plunge my blade through Levi Azaroth's back. I saw Azula's lightning be torn from the sky. I watched the fires of Vulcan burn their corpses. And yet…"

He turned to his daughter. "You are bound to their legacy. Their heir."

Beatrix met his eyes. "What would you have me do?"

There was a long silence.

Then, Etheon spoke: "Continue the charade. Serve him. Obey him. Learn what he wants… and where he goes. If he seeks to rise again, we must be the storm waiting above his ascent."

She exhaled. "You want me to spy on him?"

"No," Etheon said coldly. "I want you to destroy him. From within."

Beatrix's heart skipped. She did not show it.

"He is not like the others," she said carefully. "He sees through people."

"Then cloud his sight," Etheon replied. "Make him trust you. Make him need you. And when the moment comes…"

He tapped the table.

A glyph lit up. It showed a dagger of obsidian essence, pulsing faintly.

"…strike deep."

---

That night, Beatrix returned to her dorm, sitting on her bed with her head bowed and hands trembling. She looked at the small mirror beside her desk—and did not recognize her own eyes.

They used to shine with conviction. Arrogance, maybe. Strength, certainly.

Now, all she saw was a girl caught between fire and shadow.

Her fingers reached to her collarbone, touching the invisible chain that bound her to Cain. She could feel it whenever she closed her eyes. His presence—like a cold ember resting against her soul.

But what haunted her most…

…was that it didn't feel cruel.

He had not commanded her once. Had not abused the bond. He ignored it, if anything—as though she were a shadow, not a tool.

Why?

Why not control her?

Why not punish her?

He had every right.

She laid back in her bed, staring at the wooden ceiling beams.

Cain Azaroth was a mystery wrapped in silence.

And Beatrix Oriana—heir to the Grand Duke of Iron—had just become part of his game.

Only… she wasn't sure which side she was really playing for anymore.

---

Somewhere deep in her dreams, a voice—not Cain's, not her father's—echoed:

> You are bound to a Tyrant not by spell… but by fate.

> Choose well, child of metal… for when fire meets iron, only one will shape the other.