I woke up early, just before the first thin rays of sunlight began to creep over the horizon. A quiet grey light filled the room, soft and cold. I groaned and pushed myself up in bed, running a hand through my hair before swinging my legs over the side. The floor was cool beneath my feet as I stood and walked to the window.
I pulled the curtains aside, and the wide stretch of forest came into view. The trees stood still in the early morning calm, wrapped in mist and shadow. I didn't move away. I simply stood there, staring out, letting my thoughts drift with the pale light.
After creating Ark, I threw myself fully into the next goal, power. Financial stability had already been set in motion, pieces moving quietly in the background exactly as planned. But money was only one side of the equation. Strength was the other. So I spent most of my free time hunting vampires.
So far, my count sat at around sixty, not including newborns. Using my memory absorption ability, I traced isolated covens across the world, following scattered thoughts and old connections like threads in a web. One of them had been over two thousand three hundred years old, ancient enough to think itself untouchable.
It wasn't.
During those hunts, I began to understand my beast side more clearly. From what I knew, wolf shifters grew more aggressive after their first shift, more hot-headed, ruled by instinct. I wasn't exactly like that. My flaw ran in a different direction.
I hated losing when I set out to win. Not the kind of irritation that fades with time. Losing felt like a personal insult carved into my bones.
I had grown stricter with myself, less forgiving of mistakes. I suspected that came from the lion in me.
Pride, raw and unyielding.
And yet, that same pride would never let anyone see it.
Because I understood what that anger really was - frustration without control. It wasn't strength. It was the one crack in my armour. The flaw I refused to let anyone witness.
No one would see that weakness in me.
Yesterday, I lost control because of a thought.
Just a thought.
The possibility that my mistake might scare the Cullens away and unravel everything I had carefully set in place. If they left, my source of entertainment would disappear. More importantly, so would the opportunities tied directly to them.
During my hunting period, I had learned something I hadn't expected: vampire gifts were far rarer than I'd assumed. Special abilities didn't simply exist everywhere, waiting to be claimed.
They were scarce.
And scarcity made them valuable.
Within the next few months, two very interesting abilities were supposed to emerge.
I had plans for them.
If the Cullens' absence altered the timeline too drastically, those abilities might never surface. And then there was the Volturi to consider.
So when the thought took shape, that my own carelessness might cost me all of it, something inside me snapped.
An ordinary person might have felt irritation. Perhaps frustration.
I felt fury ignite like wildfire.
That was the flaw. My pride rejected the possibility of failure so violently that it abandoned reason. The mere idea of losing what I had calculated and arranged felt intolerable.
That had to change.
I needed to learn how to manage the beast properly. Locking it away wasn't a solution. Caging something like that would only compress it, temper it, until the inevitable moment it tore free, and it would tear free.
I could sense I was missing a crucial piece of the puzzle. The answer felt close.
Like a word balanced on the tip of my tongue.
I stared into the forest as if the trees might whisper it to me.
Then I turned away from the window.
I had a first day of school to prepare for, and I very much hoped all the chaos and fun were still waiting for me.
After a quick shower that washed away the last traces of sleep, I dressed with more care than I would ever admit out loud. A fitted white t-shirt hugged my frame, simple and clean. It showed just enough of my build to make a point without screaming for attention. Over that, I threw on dark, well-cut trousers, nothing flashy, just sharp lines and a good fit. My hair was slightly tousled, like I hadn't spent time on it at all, which of course meant I had.
I grabbed a black backpack filled with neatly arranged stationery and a few plain black notebooks, then stepped through the inner door into the garage.
My Aston Martin waited there like it had been carved out of shadow and metal. I opened the door, slid into the driver's seat, and placed my backpack on the passenger side. The engine purred to life, smooth and deep, a sound that felt more alive than people I would meet today.
The garage door lifted, and I drove out toward school.
It took about twenty minutes to reach Forks High. The sky was the usual pale grey, clouds hanging low and heavy like they had nowhere better to be. Using one of my newer skills, weather prediction, a surprisingly practical bonus from a certain unfortunate vampire, I could already tell the forecast wouldn't change for several days. Grey, damp and moody. Very on brand for this town.
When I turned into the parking lot, plenty of students had already arrived. I scanned the rows automatically, searching for a certain orange truck. It wasn't there yet, but my instincts told me this was the right day. I had learned to trust those instincts during my hunts. They had helped me more than once.
As my car rolled into the lot, the effect was immediate. Conversations dipped mid-sentence. Heads turned, one after another. Someone near the sidewalk muttered, "You've got to be kidding me…" A few probably assumed the Cullens had added something new to their collection.
I eased into an empty spot, shut off the engine, and stepped out without hurry.
The silence broke in fragments.
"Whoa…"
"What is that?"
"That's not one of the Cullens'."
And somewhere to my left, an excited squeak, high and barely contained, like someone had just spotted their favourite celebrity.
I closed the door, ignoring it all, and started toward the entrance. My hearing caught every lowered voice.
"Do you know him?"
"He's not from here."
"Oh my God, he's coming this way."
As I walked, I noticed two girls watching me with very different expressions.
One studied me with sharp interest, not shy, not subtle. Her gaze moved deliberately, assessing, measuring… and appreciating. There was calculation there, yes, but also unmistakable intent. Something that lingered a second too long to be innocent curiosity. She looked like she had already decided I was worth wanting.
The other seemed caught off guard, almost flustered, like she hadn't prepared herself for this level of disruption to her morning.
Jessica and Angela.
Jessica leaned toward her friend and whispered, not nearly quietly enough, "Please tell me he's single."
Angela nudged her quickly. "Jessica!"
"What? I'm just saying."
I gave them a small, polite smile as I passed. Jessica straightened at once, composure snapping back into place. Angela looked like she wished the concrete would split open and spare her the embarrassment.
A few steps ahead, another student lingered near the entrance, holding what looked like a camera and a folder. He glanced at me, swallowed, then looked away quickly. His heartbeat spiked. He clearly wanted to approach me about something, probably the school newspaper and the transfer student spotlight, but thought better of it.
Good choice.
I entered the main building and headed straight for the school office. Inside, a middle-aged woman sat behind the desk, glasses perched low on her nose. She looked up as I approached, her expression shifting from routine politeness to mild confusion — then settling into professional composure.
"Can I help you?"
"Yes," I replied evenly. "I'm the new transfer student. Samael Ashborn."
Her eyebrows lifted slightly at the name, but she nodded and shuffled through a neat stack of papers. "Ah, yes. We received all the necessary documents from your lawyer. Everything seems to be in order." She gave me a brief, assessing look — likely wondering why someone like me would transfer to Forks of all places. "Here's your timetable. Your books are already in your assigned locker."
"Thank you."
She offered a polite smile. "Welcome to Forks High, Samael."
I stepped back into the hallway and immediately felt it — the weight of dozens of gazes settling on me. It was almost amusing. I was like a light in a dark room, and they were moths, uncertain whether to draw closer or keep their distance.
The meaning behind those stares was easy to read. Many of the girls watched with curiosity, interest — some with open desire they weren't subtle enough to hide. A few boys looked at me with thinly veiled envy, measuring themselves against me and clearly disliking the comparison. Others attempted indifference, which only made their curiosity more obvious.
I glanced at my timetable.
First period: Physics. Then Spanish.After that, lunch.
I retrieved my books from my locker, using the small map printed on the back of the schedule to navigate the halls, and started toward the physics classroom.
With every step, whispers followed me like an echo.