The halls of Valemir Manor were quiet, but the private chambers glowed warmly with candlelight.
Inside, Duke Aerion and Lady Lysara Valemir stood near a small hearth. The firelight cast long shadows across the polished black stone, and between them hung a silence filled with unspoken thoughts.
"He's strong," Lysara said at last, her voice gentle. "Stronger than I expected."
Aerion nodded slowly. "The shadow obeyed him. It didn't resist."
"He didn't awaken the Void," she added, her tone light but searching. "Did you expect him to?"
"I hoped he wouldn't." Aerion poured a small measure of dark wine into two cups and handed one to her. "The Void consumes. He doesn't need that burden."
Lysara studied the flames. "Then what he has… is enough?"
"It's not just enough," Aerion said. "It's precise. Controlled. He bends the shadow with intent. Not instinct. That's rare—even among us."
Lysara smiled faintly. "He's always been thoughtful. Gentle, even. But I see something else in his eyes now. Something deeper."
"Resolve," Aerion said. "The kind you don't teach. The kind born from watching too much… and waiting too long."
She sipped her wine, her gaze distant. "Do you think he's ready?"
"No." Aerion looked to the fire. "But the world won't wait for him to be."
They stood there for a while in silence—two figures shaped by war and wisdom, watching the flames as if they could see tomorrow in its flicker.
---
Meanwhile, in Kaelen's quarters, the young heir lay awake.
His eyes stared at the ceiling, unblinking. The room was silent, save for the occasional whisper of the wind brushing past the window. But within him, there was no peace.
He rose quietly, wrapping a simple dark cloak around his shoulders. The hallways were empty as he made his way through the manor, each step guided by memory. The sconces glowed dimly with shadowlight, and his own footsteps echoed faintly behind him.
He reached the inner courtyard, a place of training and meditation. Here, the statues of past Valemir lords stood, each carved with their Aspect etched below their feet. Some bore twin blades. Others, cloaks of shadow. One had no face at all.
Kaelen stood before the statue of his grandfather, a legend in House Valemir—known for mastering the shadow twin arts. It was said he could move without being seen, and kill without drawing a blade.
Kaelen reached out, placing his hand on the cold stone.
"I won't be you," he whispered. "But I'll be something more."
A flicker of his own shadow moved beside him. Too slow. Too eager.
He inhaled and closed his eyes. "Status."
Status
Name: Kaelen Valemir
Age: 15
Family: House Valemir
Tier: Awakened
Aspect: Shadow
Core Condition: Stable
Techniques: None
Special Marks: None
The words burned in his mind like quiet truth. Real. Solid.
But incomplete.
He turned toward the center of the courtyard and dropped into a low stance. Slowly, he began to move—practicing the fundamental forms of shadow combat. His feet slid across the stone, smooth and precise. His hands traced the air, as if drawing lines that only he could see.
His shadow followed.
And for a moment… it moved with him, not behind him.
From a balcony above, Aerion watched. And beside him, Lysara.
"He won't stop," she murmured.
"No," Aerion replied. "He was born in shadow. But he walks toward something darker."