The night was heavy with the stench of blood and despair. In the ruins of a forgotten manor in southern France, a coven lay broken. Their banners—once proud symbols of rebellion—were torn, darkened with ash. Bodies, pale and lifeless, littered the ground like casualties in a war of gods and monsters. Overhead, the moon hung bloated and dim, veiled by thinning clouds as if nature itself recoiled from the carnage orchestrated by the Volturi.

Ethan stood in the wreckage, a crimson haze tinging his vision. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth, evidence of the desperate battle fought by his coven and the unwilling feast he had taken. He was new to this life, barely a century into vampirism, and bound not by ambition or malice but by loyalty—a loyalty that had, tonight, cost him everything.

They had called him the miracle of the coven. The lone newborn who had survived the chaos of their ambitions. Created as part of an ill-conceived plan, birthed from desperation to balance power among their ranks, Ethan had staked no claim in rebellion. Yet, for his existence—or for the fear it embodied—his family paid the ultimate price.

A faint rustle of clothes drew his attention. He had been the sole survivor of the massacre, but he was no longer alone.They always moved in silence, the Volturi. Ethan turned his eyes to the cloaked figures converging on him, their ruby eyes gleaming coldly against the flickering light of smoldering furniture.

The familiarly composed figure of Aro emerged from the center of the group, his features delicately pale and unsettlingly calm.Aro glided forward, infinitely patient, his lips curling into a frozen smile that was entirely devoid of warmth. "Ah, Ethan… What a fascinating situation we find ourselves in."

His voice wrapped around each word like a serpent coiling for the strike. For a moment, he stopped, having noticed the glassy-eyed gaze of the immortal child lying cradled in icy stone. A mosaic of destruction surrounded the motionless figure.

Even then, the child's charm was a silent force that radiated coveted destruction."You have been blessed… and cursed," Aro murmured, turning his attention fully to Ethan. "They created you to further their power, but your parents played with fire they could not contain."Ethan swallowed the venom that threatened to rise to his throat.

Fresh destruction smothered his senses, yet here before him stood the man who had delivered it. There was no malice in Ethan's gaze, only a dull resentment, a reluctance to accept anything but survival.

Would resistance matter?

Could free will resist that predator-bound stare?

Aro extended a hand, effortlessly charming in its seeming gestures of grace despite the aftermath of slaughter. "Come, young one.

Let us see what secrets you hold."

Something primal within Ethan begged him to retreat. Fear—the last fragile link to humanity in a vampire's heart—urged him to flee. But he could no more resist Aro's gravity than a mortal could the sun. His hand lifted as though it belonged to another, his fingers cold and trembling as they met the master's.

The touch was electric. A jolt that sent both Aro and Ethan reeling—not outwardly, but inwardly, in the chaos of their shared minds.Suddenly, the shadows of the present fractured, and they were thrown together into the future.

Visions flashed so fast that even time itself seemed the victim of this bizarre encounter. Splintering apart—shards of reality, promises, and ruin.Aro, frozen within the recesses of his own premonition, saw the Volturi. Their council chamber loomed before him: solid, unyielding, ancient with the weight of centuries.

Yet he also saw its destruction.

Their empire of control brought to ruin. Flame and dust. One by one, his loyal guard—Felix, Demetri, Chelsea—each fell. Leaders of the Volturi were no longer shackled to time. Lives halted rippled around. Who...had driven the ancient knife first.

No—this could not be real.

THIS was madness!

And amidst the chaos of that inevitable downfall… Ethan's face stood in shadow. He was neither savior nor villain. He was merely there. A calm amid the storm. An inevitability.

The vision died with an abrupt snap, and Aro's eyes flew open. He stumbled backward, retreating from Ethan as though bitten.Ethan fell to his knees, head bowed. His entire body trembled under the weight of the visions, unaware of the dark future that had played in Aro's mind."Such potential,"

Aro whispered, his voice strained and laden with something uncharacteristic of him—uncertainty. His guard shifted uncomfortably behind him like wolves catching their leader's wavering scent. "Such…a peculiarity."

"Aro," Caius growled impatiently, breaking the tense silence. "He is an abomination, like the rest. His survival can only lead to further ruin. End him, now."

Aro's head tilted slightly, his expression contemplative. Though he heard the fury in Caius' voice, his mind raced with calculations. What he had seen tonight could not be undone.

And yet…if manipulated carefully, if nurtured with precision…"No," Aro breathed after a long pause.

His eyes sought Chelsea, the master manipulator of bonds. Words would not be enough to tie Ethan's loyalty to the Volturi, but Chelsea's abilities made no task too difficult. He raised a finger, commanding stillness from his guard. "Ethan will not meet his end tonight."

Caius snarled, stepping forward, but Aro cut him off with an authoritative glance. "This one is not a mere casualty of war," Aro said firmly. "He is…significant."Ethan's head rose at last, confusion clouding his crimson eyes.

Why?

Why had he been allowed to live?

Mercy?

Aro offered him a thin, cold smile, even as he spoke the words that tethered Ethan unknowingly to his will.

"We are not unkind, dear one," he said softly. "You are young, innocent to the mistakes of your fallen family. Let this be a lesson—a chance to do better."

In that moment, Chelsea worked quietly, unseen even by Ethan. Threads of allegiance, of gratitude, began to weave through Ethan's being. The truth muddied, warped, and soon Ethan could no longer discern whether Aro's mercy came from genuine kindness or his own heavy sense of guilt—a gratitude that was as artificial as the threads that bound him to his would-be savior.

"Your debts are clear," Aro continued, stepping closer again, his poise restored. "Your future… belongs to us now."And so, Ethan bowed his head once more—not in defeat, but in belief.

Belief in a ruler whose mercy he would seek to repay for centuries. Belief in a choice that would shape their world and their demise.As

Aro glided away, the embers of the fallen coven cooling around him, there was no triumph in his gaze, only shadows—shadows of what he knew was yet to come. The Volturi would rise once more. They would remain the law, the rulers of the vampire world.

But the vision clung to him like rot in his chest. For the first time in his eternity, Aro feared something other than death.

He feared a boy who knelt willingly at his feet.