Helena gazed at her daughter, Sophia, through the enchanted mirror she used to communicate with her. The anger in Sophia's eyes was evident, and Helena knew she had every right to be furious.
The blame rested squarely on Helena's shoulders, and she was prepared to shoulder the full responsibility for her actions.
She had orchestrated all of this out of fear that her ex-husband would take her son away from her.
But now, the circumstances had shifted dramatically. Sam had already unlocked his dormant bloodlines, and, more significantly, he had become the master of the Codex of Supreme Immortals.
Even Helena understood that Sam needed the support of his own clan. However, her deep-seated hatred for his father was an insurmountable obstacle. Despite this, she realized that eventually, she would have to bring Sam to the Hailstorm Clan.
Within the Hailstorm Clan, the person who ignited Helena's anger the most was her own father. Sooner or later, she knew she would have to make the difficult choice to introduce Sam to his ancestral roots in the Hailstorm Clan.
Helena couldn't help but notice that her daughter's anger showed no signs of abating. She desperately wanted to explain the reasons behind her actions, but the words remained trapped in her heavy heart.
"Sophia," her voice felt burdened, and her mouth struggled to form the words, "I can explai-"
"Shut it!" Sophia's voice erupted like a storm, her eyes red from tears and fury. "I don't want to hear any explanation you may have, and frankly, I don't care... I just want you to know that I'm coming to meet my brother." She paused, her gaze locked on her mother, measuring her reaction. "And if you try to hide him from me, I won't care even if you are my mother."
With those piercing words, Sophia's image faded from the mirror. Helena and her younger sister, Lorraine, were left with downcast expressions, weighed down by the gravity of the situation.
Lorraine couldn't have imagined in a million years that her sweet niece would ever speak with such venom, especially to her own mother.
Lorraine let out a heavy sigh, her face a mix of relief and bewilderment. "Well, that went...worse than I expected," she commented, secretly relieved that her niece hadn't turned her anger toward her.
"But seriously, sis, I never thought she'd react this badly upon finding out that Sam is alive."
Helena hesitated, still unable to shake off the weight of her daughter's intense anger. "Actually, there's something I haven't told you," she finally confessed, keeping her gaze lowered because of the strained relationship with her daughter.
Lorraine frowned, a bit peeved. She had always been open with her big sister, so Helena's secrecy was unusual. "About what?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.
Helena took a deep breath before revealing, "When I was pregnant with Sam, Sophia somehow imprinted on him."
Lorraine's eyes widened in disbelief. "Imprinted? Are you kidding me?"
Imprinting was an intriguing concept among dragons, somewhat akin to what those werewolves did in a certain famous movie series. Dragons, like their fictional counterparts, could imprint, usually intentionally, but sometimes, very rarely, unintentionally.
Sophia, during her time with their pregnant mother, had unknowingly formed a strong connection with her brother. It was an unexpected bond but one that she cherished deeply.
Helena nodded. "I know it sounds strange," she admitted.
"She didn't exactly imprint on him. It was more like a partial imprint, but it was still incredibly potent."
Lorraine connected the dots. "So that's why she reacted so strongly when we told her that Sam died in your womb," she concluded, casting a disapproving glance at her sister, trying to grasp the complexity of the situation.
...
Back in school.
The end of the day was fast approaching.
Sam had been eagerly looking forward to torturing the bastards who had tried to kill him, but much to his disappointment, they were nowhere to be seen at school that day.
RING! RING!
The shrill ring of the school bell pierced through the air, grating on Sam's heightened senses.
Since awakening his bloodlines, his senses had become supercharged.
He could perceive his surroundings in greater detail, and his sense of smell had reached a whole new level. Now, he could pick up on the distinct scents of his classmates, especially the girls.
There was something different about the vampire girl seated in front of him and his foxy teacher. Their scents were unique, and it stirred a peculiar desire within him.
It was as if he wanted to hold them close and savor their fragrance all day long.
After everyone else had left, only two students remained in the classroom: Sam and Amelia Scarlett. She turned to face Sam, her expression giving away nothing; it was the perfect poker face.
"How did you become a cultivator?" she asked Sam, her voice as neutral as her expression.
It was a rare occurrence for Sam to engage in a conversation with Amelia. Despite being in the same class for a year, she had always been the quiet type, rarely speaking to anyone unless prompted. Even then, her responses were typically brief, and she avoided unnecessary chitchat with others.
"Why should I tell you?" Sam countered, meeting her with the same stoic expression.
Amelia's face betrayed a hint of irritation and a small frown as she heard his response.
Suddenly, Amelia's striking green eyes transformed into a menacing blood-red hue as she locked her gaze onto Sam's.
She leaned in closer and, with an air of authority, declared, "You will tell me because I asked you nicely."
Sam couldn't help but be taken aback.
He knew she was using her unique racial ability, a power exclusive to Noble vampires known as compulsion.
This ability allowed them to exert control over individuals with weaker mental fortitude, compelling them to carry out their bidding.
In some cases, they could even tweak and manipulate memories, while experienced vampires had the capacity to exert a limited influence over their victims' dreams.