After Eli brought breakfast, the room filled with warmth. A steaming bowl of vegetable and meat stew, a fresh slice of bread crunching under his fingers, and a piece of aged cheese added a sharp depth to the aroma. It was a simple but good breakfast — one that required no unnecessary words or ceremonies. Cain ate silently, focused, as if immersing himself in calm for a few minutes before the day began.
When he finished, Eli came over and, as always, calmly collected the dishes. There was something gentle and effortless in her movements — she didn't look back or expect thanks. She simply did her task and left, leaving behind a silence that warmed rather than weighed down.
Cain slowly stood up and walked to the corner wall. He snapped his fingers. A barely audible buzzing — and part of the wall slid aside, revealing a built-in wardrobe. Inside, under soft light, were folded a few sets of clothes: dark pants, simple T-shirts, sweaters, jackets. Nothing excessive — all comfortable, functional, with a hint of restrained elegance.
Today Cain didn't want anything flashy or formal. He took a black T-shirt made of soft fabric that lay pleasantly on the body, and simple gray pants. Home clothes — comfortable, practical, perfect for just being himself.
He dressed, straightened his shoulders, and for a moment froze, staring into the empty space of the room. The silence around was deep, almost obedient — swallowing sounds and thoughts.
After Cain was dressed, he quietly left his room, closing the door behind him without a sound. And as soon as the threshold was behind him, the boy's face changed. It froze in coldness — without any emotion, without a hint of warmth or fear. His gaze became empty, as if his soul had hidden behind thick glass. This was not just a usual expression — it was a mask forged by years of pain and defense. This was how two traits awakened in him in childhood worked: [Cold Core] and [Closed Shell].
Cain walked the dark corridors of the manor slowly, methodically, as if every step was part of some inner ritual. He stepped silently, as if the space itself tried not to disturb his passage. Half-darkness reigned around — the walls were silent, their stone faces decorated with thin veins that occasionally pulsed with soft energy. Blue crystals hovered in the air — round like droplets of frozen light. They shone quietly, casting a ghostly glow on the dark arches and floor. The same as the one embedded in his desk — pure mana, bound in form.
Cain did not hurry. His path held no pleasant purpose.
And at one of the turns, where the shadow fell deeper than it should, he met those he least wished to see.
Ruen and Nael Ravenshade.
Twins. His half-brother and half-sister — the children of the elven stepmother, the pride of the family.
Ruen was tall and slim. His muscles were strong, and his dark clothes fit him perfectly. His skin had a little silver shine, and his long black hair was tied in a knot at the back of his neck. His face was sharp, with a strong chin, and his eyes always burned with a feeling that he was the best.
Nael looked like her brother but softer. She had a flexible, beautiful figure, like she was made of lightness and grace. Her eyes were dark blue, like an elf's, with a careful and a little proud look. Her long hair flowed smoothly down her back, and the smile she gave when she saw Cain was both pretty and a bit dangerous.
"Look who crawled out of his hole," Nael said with feigned tenderness that held no softness. "A true miracle of the day."
"You walk as if carrying some weight," added Ruen, folding his arms over his chest. "But we both know you're only a shadow in this house."
"And by the way, we heard…" Nael took a half-step closer, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "You're heading to Father's study? What happened? Decided to complain again? Or do you finally want to hear that he sees nothing in you but weakness?"
Cain didn't answer. His face didn't flinch. Didn't even blink. The silence between them stretched but did not frighten him — it was his ally.
"A true warrior of silence," Ruen sneered. "But we see you. You will never be worthy. Not here. Not among us."
"Even the walls of this house know you're just a guest," whispered Nael, "and a very temporary one at that."
Cain looked right through them. His eyes were empty, like cold waters with no bottom. He passed them silently, not quickening his pace. He gave them no shred of reaction.
But inside something clenched. Not from fear. Not from pain. From habit.
He wanted to go on without looking back. To pass by, as always — like a shadow undeserving of a word or attention. But today the twins had no intention of letting him go so easily.
"Hey," Ruen snapped sharply, and his hand lunged forward, clearly to grab Cain by the shoulder.
But at that moment, another movement appeared in the air — calm but resolute.
"Enough," came a deep, calm voice.
At the corridor's bend stood Sebastian.
Sebastian stood tall, his posture straight and shoulders broad. His black eyes were serious, like hardened stone, and his silvery-gray hair fell neatly over his forehead. He wore a black butler's coat — simple, yet dignified, fitting perfectly to his role. Though his look was modest, there was a quiet strength in him that could not be missed.
"Ruen. Nael. You know he's going to Father."
"We were just saying hello," Nael turned with a smile like a blade wrapped in silk.
"Then I say hello too. And I ask you to stop bothering him."
There was no anger in Sebastian's gaze. Only a firm boundary not to be crossed.
The twins exchanged looks. Ruen turned away first — sharply, with a shrug, as if brushing off dust. Nael lingered on Sebastian's gaze a moment longer, then threw Cain a piercing look and followed her brother.
Cain nodded briefly.
"Thank you."
"I was just... nearby," Sebastian replied softly, and without another word, continued on his way.
Cain was alone in the corridor again. His heart beat steadily, but echoes of unwelcome words still trembled in his chest.
He walked on, as if carving a path through layers of himself. The stone floor beneath felt too cold, and the air too dense. The walls changed — dark panels with energetic veins gave way to smooth black stone, and the crystals on the ceiling became sparser, until the corridor led him to heavy doors of dark wood.
They were tall, engraved with a fading sun and a silver tree — the symbol of the Ravenshade line.
Cain stopped. For several seconds he stood motionless, breathing deeply.
His eyes became empty again.
His shoulders straightened again.
His heart sank back into silence.
He raised his hand and knocked.
Twice.
Clearly.
"Come in," came a low voice from inside.
Cain pressed the heavy handle and entered his father's study.