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The newborns were drenched in their own fear. The air vibrated with the restrained tension of throats that did not need breath, yet panted like cornered beasts. The scent was thick with damp earth, old blood, and a desperate urgency.
Edward listened to their thoughts in chaotic waves: "run, attack, obey, death, escape…" It was a deafening murmur, a sea of disordered voices crashing against one another, each mind trying to dominate, until the mental noise began to turn unbearable.
Some newborns jolted upright, their eyes gleaming in the half-light like blades lying in wait. Their bodies tensed, muscles taut, ready to lunge at anyone who broke that precarious balance.
Then Nate spoke.
His voice was neither a shout nor a roar. It was a command—cold, deep, and sharp as a drawn blade:
"On your knees."
The effect was immediate. As if a hidden spring had been released, the newborns' bodies gave way. Knees struck the damp earth in unison, echoing like a muffled drum in the stillness of the forest. And suddenly, a suffocating silence fell, crushing, replacing the tangle of thoughts.
Edward, accustomed to hearing even the most intimate doubts, encountered something he rarely perceived: absolute emptiness. No resistance, no uncertainty. Only blind obedience.
For the first time in a long while, he was surprised. He turned his gaze toward Nate, brow faintly furrowed. It wasn't just fear that kept these vampires motionless. It was something deeper: the immovable certainty that they would die the very instant they failed to obey. That conviction was so ironclad it made even Edward uneasy.
Across the circle, Stefan broke the silence with a crooked smile. His fangs glinted under the pale moonlight filtering through the treetops.
"Seems you haven't lost your touch, Nathaniel…"
His voice dripped with mockery, light as a sting, yet beneath that mocking tone pulsed involuntary respect. A silent admission that Nate had achieved in seconds what he had been trying to mold with violence for months.
Nate watched him with frozen calm. His eyes, hard and fixed on Stefan, revealed no pride, no surprise. They seemed, if anything, disinterested, as though all of this were merely a formality, a necessary step before reaching what truly mattered.
Edward, on the other hand, stood rigid at his side. His mind brushed against Stefan's, catching scattered fragments, broken images. And what he found unsettled him further: no surprise, no frustration. Only expectation. As if the Romanian had been waiting precisely for this display of power. As if this moment were part of a larger plan.
The tension thickened in the clearing. The newborns kept their foreheads pressed to the ground, trembling without daring to look up. The wind stirred the branches with a slow creak, and even the forest seemed to hold its breath.
Nate stepped forward, closing in on Stefan. His voice was serene, almost indifferent, but carried an edge that sliced through the air:
"How is their training going?"
As he spoke, his eyes scanned the newborns with surgical precision. They lingered a little longer on some, as if silently gauging who had potential and who was dead weight.
Stefan tilted his head, his smile widening into a gesture too sharp to be human.
"So far… good." His tone was drawn out, almost playful. "No incidents with humans, and the fights among them have stopped. They're not yet an army…" He paused, letting expectation soak into the air. "But they're starting to take shape."
Nate gave the faintest nod, a brief, almost imperceptible gesture, and began walking slowly among the kneeling newborns. His steps were soundless on the damp earth, and his eyes glided from face to face with a calm that weighed heavier than any shout. Suddenly, his voice emerged, serene, unraised, yet saturated with authority:
"Anyone who stands out…?"
Stefan followed him with a veil of complicity. Edward, meanwhile, remained immobile in his place, focused solely on the storm of thoughts around him, absorbing every detail.
After a short pause, Stefan lifted a hand and pointed toward one figure in particular—a girl with reddish-blonde hair, kneeling at the edge of the circle.
"That one," he murmured, amusement in his voice. "She's something of a group leader. Has some experience handling people… the only problem is she's a bit arrogant."
Nate approached her unhurriedly, studying her in measured silence. If arrogance truly existed, it wasn't visible now. The moment she felt him draw near, the girl pressed her forehead harder against the ground, as if wishing to vanish into the soil. Fear saturated every line of her body, but in her mind, Edward heard clearly the muffled curse she hurled at Stefan for pointing her out.
Nate tilted his head slightly, glancing at Edward as though seeking confirmation. Edward held his gaze for a moment and gave a silent nod.
The assessment was swift. Nate stood still, studying the young woman's tension, before speaking with calm precision:
"If she's truly good at leading, I'll put her in charge when you're occupied."
The girl looked up for just a second, startled. In her eyes flickered something other than fear: a cold, calculating spark that vanished the instant she lowered her gaze again. Nate noticed. A faint, ironic smile curved his lips.
"She'll just need to be kept in check… in case she later thinks she doesn't need to follow orders."
The tremor that ran through her after hearing this was obvious, almost uncontrollable.
Stefan let out a sharp, ringing laugh that cracked through the clearing.
"Sounds perfect, Nathaniel."
At once, with the same mocking air, he pointed to another kneeling figure: a burly man with a hard, aggressive face. Nate observed him closely. He stayed submissive, forehead against the ground like the others, yet there was a subtle difference. He did not tremble. Not a muscle betrayed strain under the pressure.
Stefan spoke with a light, amused tone, as if showing off toys to an old friend.
"That one is the best fighter of the group. Clearly nowhere near our level, but he's got good instincts and listens when advised on how to improve…"
Nate tilted his head slightly, evaluating the burly man. He waited for Stefan to continue, and the Romanian, as if realizing he'd left it incomplete, went on with a crooked smile.
"The problem with him is that he loses control in fights… doesn't know when to stop. Of all of them, he's the one we've had to mutilate the most just to calm him down."
A heavy silence fell among the three, broken only by the distant creak of branches in the wind. Nate nodded in understanding, his gaze never leaving the man. The newborn, feeling him so close, lifted his eyes briefly before lowering them again, slow and submissive. There was respect in his gesture—less fear than the others, but respect nonetheless. And for Nate, respect was enough. Respect could be worked with.
For a second, he felt tempted to ask Edward what went through the fighter's mind. But he restrained himself. He didn't want the newborns to suspect their thoughts could be read so easily. Resigned, he merely memorized the man's face, etching every detail into memory.
Then he turned back to Stefan, a flicker of impatience in his eyes.
"Is that all? No one else worth noting?"
Stefan showed no irritation at Nate's tone. On the contrary, he stroked his chin with a near-theatrical gesture, as though he truly needed to ponder. He feigned thought for a moment before snapping his fingers lightly, as if a bright idea had just struck him.
"Well…" he said, drawing out the word with playful flair. "Perhaps there is one more."
He raised his hand and pointed to the edge of the circle. There, almost lost in the shadows, a figure stood apart. A small, slight girl, with the fragile appearance of someone who never should have been turned. She clashed against the tense, aggressive bodies around her.
Nate recognized her instantly. The same black-haired girl he had sent to fetch Vladimir the day of the factory in Seattle.
Stefan smiled smugly, lifting his hand toward her.
"Not sure if I'd call her special… but that girl has shown better self-control than all the rest combined. She even stopped herself from attacking a bleeding human… and that, Nathaniel, is something none of these idiots could've done."
Nate's eyes gleamed with a spark of curiosity. Of the three Stefan had pointed out, she was the most interesting. The fighter might be a useful asset in battle, yes, and the so-called leader had her purpose, but both excelled in areas Nate already mastered with ease. He could crush the first in seconds and manage a group better than the second without effort.
Self-control, however, was a field still uncertain to him, an edge whose weight he was only beginning to grasp. And that slight girl seemed to hold it as if it were her only armor.
With slow, measured steps, Nate approached until he stood before her. He saw her trembling, clinging to the ground as if she could merge with the earth. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed how her gaze flicked briefly to another newborn nearby. The exchange was subtle, just a spark of glances, but enough for Nate to interpret: that vampire was ready to leap to her defense if needed. The gesture piqued his interest, though he chose to ignore it for now.
He returned his gaze to the girl. His voice came out soft, almost a whisper that contrasted with the clearing's tension:
"What's your name?"
The girl lifted her eyes, confused at first, unsure if the words were truly meant for her. But upon meeting Nate's red gaze fixed on hers, she answered quickly, stumbling over her fear:
"Bree, sir… my name is Bree."
The name struck a pang of pity in him, an echo of the same impression he'd had in Seattle. She was essentially a child, dragged helplessly into a world she never should have known. A lamb dressed as a predator. Nate forced himself to swallow that feeling, to bury it where it would not interfere.
His voice colder now, he asked:
"What have you been feeding on?"
Bree blinked, startled by the direction of the question. But she didn't dare dwell on it, afraid that hesitation might be seen as disobedience.
"Animals, sir…"
Nate narrowed his eyes and turned toward Stefan for confirmation. The Romanian shrugged and nodded, though without much conviction.
"We told them about the Cullens' vegetarianism, like you asked. But only she follows it. The others drink from the blood bags we steal."
Nate looked back at the girl, analyzing each word. Calmly, he pressed further:
"How did you manage to resist human blood?"
Bree swallowed instinctively, anguish painting her face. Her eyes darted nervously, as if searching for an invisible escape, before she blurted the words quickly:
"I don't know… it just… scared me to drink human blood. It's like being a monster… Besides, I was already used to eating only what I needed when I was human. It was hard, but I thought if I could do it with food… I could do it with blood too."
Nate studied her in silence, waiting for more, some revealing detail that could serve as a practical lesson. But all he found was bare sincerity—too simple, almost disappointing. Her self-control was born of fear and habit, not true mastery.
He stifled a sigh and glanced toward Stefan.
The Romanian, with a tilted smile, added with clear disdain:
"The problem with that girl, and the reason I think she has so much control, is that she's a coward. Out of everyone, she's the worst fighter and by far the least aggressive. She has no predator instinct like the others. Even when she hunts animals, she does it pathetically… only catches them because she's fast and strong as a vampire, nothing more."
Bree's trembling worsened. Her hands dug into the damp earth as if she could vanish inside it, while Stefan's words dripped light venom.
Nate nodded without much conviction—more a gesture to show he'd heard than true agreement. He stepped back a couple of paces, moving away from the girl, though his eyes lingered on her a moment longer. Then he raised his voice enough for every newborn present to hear:
"We can work with this. Some look promising, and the rest… can be trained. All of them will serve a purpose."
His gaze swung sharply to Stefan, cold and serious.
"I'll take my time to examine them more closely, in case you've overlooked something."
Stefan smiled, satisfied. Both he and Vladimir knew how arduous it was to deal with newborns, how unpredictable and violent they could be. Yet he was certain that with Nate's ability, the training would bear fruit much faster than usual. The thought relaxed his shoulders—until he noticed Nathaniel's eyes still fixed on him, firm, penetrating, as if stripping away his secrets layer by layer.
A shadow of doubt flickered through him, and almost instinctively he turned to Edward. But Nate's companion remained as silent as at the beginning, as stoic as a statue, watching without uttering a word. That stillness only deepened the unease.
Then Nate stepped closer still, closing the distance with Stefan. His presence became a tangible pressure, as though the clearing had suddenly narrowed. Stefan arched a brow slightly, and with an ironic smile tried to lessen the tension, guessing where that severe gaze was aimed.
"I wasn't hiding it. I know Vladimir already told you about him… I just wanted to save the best for last."
Before he could continue his explanation, Nate cut him off. His voice dropped a few tones, icy, so firm it dimmed Stefan's smile.
"Tell me which one has the ability… and what he can do."