I eased myself into the steaming bath, wincing as the hot water made contact with my bruised flesh. The dark veins beneath my skin pulsed faintly in response to the heat. Thaddeus’s “training” session earlier that day had been particularly unmerciful, as I’d anticipated. Promptly at dawn, he wasted no time testing my limits.
Malachai’s training, harsh as it had been during my earlier months, at least held a semblance of purpose. Each blow was meant to teach, each punishment designed to strengthen. But Thaddeus... his methods was a masterclass in methodical cruelty. Every strike was with careful intent, following an almost ritualistic pattern designed to inflict maximum agony while leaving no visible evidence of his work. His favorite technique involved shadow-enhanced blows that sent searing pain and agony through the body without marking the skin. There was no chaos in his malicious methods, only cold, calculated precision.
My muscles ached from hours of repetitive drills, each mistake punished with swift, precise strikes that I felt through my armor. Thaddeus’s facade of a nervous, stammering servant had been gone completely, replaced by a cold taskmaster who seemed to take pleasure in finding and exploiting my weaknesses.
I sank deeper into the water, letting the heat soothe my battered body. The bath was one of the few luxuries I still allowed myself, a moment of peace in the growing storm of politics and paranoia that surrounded me. The steam carried the scent of medicinal herbs I’d added to help with the soreness and bruising.
As I soaked, I replayed the day’s training in my mind, analyzing each moment where Thaddeus had found an opening, each instance where his blade had slipped past my guard. There was a pattern to his attacks, I was sure of it, but understanding it had proved difficult.
I still didn’t understand the purpose of all of this. Why Malachai was destined to break me down. But heeding Valic’s words, I had to overcome whatever obstacle the Grandmaster put before me. If I am to become a king... Just thinking about such a future sounded absurd. But if Valic wills it...
The deep blast of horns jolted me from my contemplation. The sound echoed through the Sanctum’s stone corridors. This was a signal of return—someone of importance had arrived.
I rose from the bath quickly, water cascading off my body as I reached for a towel. As I dried myself and began donning the Darkweaver’s Embrace piece by piece, I could hear increased activity in the corridors, training yard, and the courtyard—the rhythmic stamp of armored boots, the low murmur of voices, the subtle shift in the Sanctum’s usual atmosphere that spoke of anticipation.
I heard murmurs outside as two people thundered past my door. One name was mentioned that piqued my attention—Corvus.
He had returned.
I thought about my conversation with Valic the night before. Time was running out. If Malachai truly intended to eliminate me, I needed to devise a strategy quickly before his machinations could come to fruition. I checked my armor and weapons once more with extra care. I couldn’t afford to risk any weakness in my defenses.
The horns blared again as I emerged into the corridor, their deep notes seeming to vibrate through the very stones. Other blackguards were moving towards the main hall. The air felt charged, heavy with unspoken tension.
“Quite the reception,” a familiar deep voice rumbled. Grath fell into step beside me. His yellow eyes gleamed in the dim light. Elena joined us and strode with purpose on my other side.
I noted the careful neutrality of their expressions. “Important enough to warrant a formal gathering, it seems.”
“Indeed.” Elena said. “Though some errands carry more weight than others, depending on their purpose.”
We emerged into the main hall. The vast space was already filled with black-armored figures arranged in formal ranks. Purple flames cast dancing shadows across polished obsidian walls as I took my place amongst the other assembled blackguards. The air thrummed with tension and unspoken questions.
Malachai stood on the raised dais at the hall’s far end, donned in his formal armor. Beside him, Corvus stood, his black armor dusty from his travels. His favorite crow was perched quietly on his shoulder. Despite Corvus’s usual composed demeanor, there was a subtle weariness in his movements that only someone who knew him well would notice. His shoulders carried a slight tension, but his posture wasn’t quite as rigid as usual. Still, I was relieved to see that he appeared otherwise healthy and well. Whatever mission had taken him away hadn’t done any lasting damage.
“Fellow warriors,” Malachai’s voice carried easily through the vast space, “let us welcome our returned brother, who has succeeded in his sacred task.” His gauntleted hand rested on Corvus’s shoulder in a gesture that seemed both congratulatory and possessive.
I watched carefully as Corvus knelt, presenting a small obsidian box to Malachai. Even from my position, I could see the box was carved with strange runes that glowed in the purple torchlight. The air around it shimmered slightly, as if reality itself was disturbed by its presence.
“The essence you requested, Grandmaster,” Corvus said, his voice carrying the formal tones of ritual presentation. “Extracted at the prescribed hour, under the proper astronomical alignments.”
Malachai carefully took the box, then held it up for all to see. The runes caught the purple light, sending twisted reflections dancing across the assembled armor of the brotherhood. “With this,” he announced, “we shall conduct the ritual that will strengthen our order’s bonds with the powers that guide us.”
I clenched my jaw, a cold feeling of dread settling in my stomach as I stared at the box. Something about it felt wrong—terribly wrong.
“Tonight,” Malachai continued, “we shall gather for a ceremony of renewal. All are required to attend.” His head turned slightly in my direction. “All.”
My suspicions rose. I stared at that innocuous container in his hands and could sense its malevolent purpose. Whatever dark item lay within wasn’t meant for any ritual to benefit the order—it was meant specifically for me.
The formal gathering soon dispersed, black-armored figures returning to their assigned duties. I was about to leave with the others when a voice cut through the general movement.
“Brother Caelum.”
I turned to find Corvus approaching, his movements fluid despite his fatigue. His favorite crow remained perched on his shoulder.
“Brother Corvus,” I replied carefully. “Welcome back.”
“Walk with me,” he said, though it wasn’t really a request. We fell into step together and moved away from the main group towards one of the lesser-used corridors.
“The eastern territories are... interesting this time of year,” he said, though there was an undercurrent to his words I couldn’t quite read. “Full of shadows that whisper things they perhaps shouldn’t.”
I kept my voice neutral. “Shadows often whisper, brother. The trick is knowing which whispers to heed.”
Corvus’s lips curved in what might have been a smile. “Indeed. And some whispers speak of changes coming to our order. Of power shifts and... succession.”
We turned down another corridor, this one lit by only a few purple flames that cast our shadows long and distorted on the obsidian walls.
“Change is the nature of all things,” I replied carefully. “Even in an order built on tradition and hierarchy.”
“Is it?” Corvus stopped and turned to face me fully. Despite the blindfold, I had the distinct impression he was studying me intently. “Some would say that stability—true stability—comes from maintaining the established order. From ensuring that power flows through proper channels.”
“And who determines what channels are proper?”
The question hung in the air between us. Corvus was silent for a long moment, his head tilted slightly, as if listening to something I couldn’t hear. His crow shifted on his shoulder and began preening his hair.
“You know,” he said finally, “my blindness was a choice. A pact made with powers that offered knowledge in exchange for conventional sight. They showed me truths that eyes alone could never perceive.” His hand touched the blindfold lightly. “But lately, I find myself questioning what I thought I understood about truth and power.”
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“Dangerous thoughts, brother,” I muttered.
“Indeed.” He turned slightly, his attention seeming to focus on something in the shadows. “Tell me, Brother Caelum, what do you see when you look at our order? Not with your eyes, but with whatever sense guides you through darkness?”
I considered my response carefully, aware that this conversation could have consequences far beyond this moment. “I see strength,” I said finally. “But strength without purpose is just violence. Power without direction is chaos.”
“And who provides that direction? That purpose?” Corvus’s voice had dropped to barely above a whisper.
I weighed my words carefully before responding. “In theory, that direction comes from our hierarchy, from Malachai, who serves as Lord Valic’s chosen.” I paused. “But even the most sacred traditions must sometimes yield to divine will.”
Corvus tilted his head slightly, the gesture making his crow shift and ruffle its feathers. “An interesting perspective,” he murmured.
Taking advantage of this rare moment of candid conversation, I lowered my voice further. “Brother Corvus, that item you brought to Malachai... what was it?”
Before he could respond, footsteps echoed from the corridor behind us. Thaddeus emerged from the shadows, his armor absorbing the surrounding light.
“Brother Corvus,” he said, his voice carrying forced politeness. “The Grandmaster requires your presence for the preparation of tonight’s ceremony.”
Corvus straightened, his manner shifting smoothly back to formal protocol. “Of course. Brother Caelum, we’ll continue our discussion another time.” He moved away with his usual fluid grace, leaving me alone with Thaddeus.
Thaddeus glowered at me. “You’re late for midday training.” All pretense of politeness was gone from his voice. “The lower levels. Now.”
I inclined my head slightly, maintaining the proper show of respect while keeping my growing anger carefully contained. “Of course, Brother Thaddeus.”
***
The second training session Thaddeus had in store for me was more savage than the first, even by the Sanctum’s standards. Once again, his façade of the nervous, stammering attendant had completely vanished. Dark energy crackled around me as I faced multiple opponents, my newfound powers lending me strength and resilience I never had before. Thaddeus orchestrated increasingly dangerous combat scenarios, clearly testing more than just my fighting abilities.
“Faster!” Thaddeus barked as I parried a shadow-wreathed blade, dark energy pulsing through my veins. “Your enemies won’t wait politely for you to recover. Perhaps you’d like to yield now?”
“Never,” I growled, channeling my power into a devastating counter-strike that sent my opponent staggering backward. Sweat ran down my back beneath my armor, but the dark energy flowing through me kept my muscles from failing.
Three more blackguards joined the fray. I noticed their attacks were coordinated with lethal precision. They weren’t attacking with measures of sparring, they were going for actual killing blows. The sudden shift made my blood run cold.
I drew deeper on my newfound abilities, wrapping shadows around my kukris like a second skin. The darkness responded eagerly, hungrily. When I deflected a thrust meant for my throat, the impact sent violent vibrations up my arm, but my enhanced strength absorbed the shock.
“This isn’t training anymore, is it, Thaddeus?” I spat. “These are execution strikes!”
Thaddeus’s lips curled into a cruel smile. “Having second thoughts, Brother Caelum? Perhaps you lack the resolve our order demands. Shall we end this now, if you’re too weak to continue?”
The taunt ignited something dark within me. I could end this quickly by killing them—it would certainly be within my rights to eliminate threats to my position, after all. But that would play directly into Thaddeus’s hands. No, I had to take a more calculated approach.
“Is that what you want to hear?” I snarled, channeling more power through my blades. “That I’ll break? That I’ll yield?”
Thaddeus’s face twisted in anger. “Attack!” he shouted at the other blackguards. “Don’t let him recover! Push him harder!”
The assault intensified, but so did my resolve. Every blow I absorbed, every attack I turned aside, made me stronger, more certain. I was drawing on reserves of power I hadn’t known I possessed. I channeled shadow energy into devastating counterattacks, turning each moment of vulnerability into an opportunity.
The Talons of Twilight found tiny gaps in my opponents’ defenses with surgical precision. I shattered one blackguard’s knee with a perfectly placed kick, then drove my pommel into another’s spine with enough force to crack bone.
I caught the third attacker with a shadow-enhanced strike that severed tendons in his sword arm. All three went down, seriously wounded but alive. They would recover, but they’d remember this lesson.
I turned to face Thaddeus, my kukris still wreathed in purple light. “I won’t kill my brothers needlessly. But neither will I hesitate to demonstrate my power when challenged.”
Thaddeus’s usual calculated demeanor cracked, revealing the seething anger beneath. I clearly did not achieve his desired outcome from this orchestrated deadly encounter.
“The training session is concluded,” he said, his voice tight with suppressed rage. “Though your... restraint... is noted.” He sneered at the word as if it were a personal insult.
I maintained my combat stance until he gave the formal signal to stand down. I had to stay alert for any more unexpected surprises. The wounded blackguards were escorted away by others who had observed the session. Their injuries would heal, but the message had been sent: I could have killed them if I chose to.
“Clean yourself up,” Thaddeus ordered. “The ceremony begins at nightfall. Don’t be late.” The threat in his voice was clear.
Every muscle ached as I made my way back to my quarters. Each step sent fresh waves of pain through my body. I noticed how some of the other blackguards gave me a wide berth in the corridors. News of the harsh training session had apparently spread quickly. Or perhaps they simply didn’t want to be seen associating with someone who had drawn both Malachai’s and Thaddeus’s ire.
Back in my quarters, I eased into another hot bath, this time adding extra healing herbs to combat the deep muscle damage from the brutal training session. The water turned a faint purple from the herbs, matching the eternal twilight that seemed to permeate everything in the Sanctum.
As I soaked, my mind kept returning to that obsidian box Corvus had presented. Something about those glowing runes nagged at my memory. I had seen similar markings before, in one of the many ancient texts I’d studied in the library.
Then I remembered the pattern. They were binding runes, specifically designed for containing and controlling certain essences. The particular arrangement of those runes, and the way they seemed to distort the very air around them... it appeared those runes were meant for something far more sinister.
I sat up straighter in the bath, ignoring the protest of my muscles. Those runes were soul-binding sigils. The kind used in the darkest rituals of transformation and domination. Rituals that required a willing sacrifice of essence... or an unwilling one.
Corvus’s words echoed in my mind: “Extracted at the prescribed hour, under the proper astronomical alignments.”
The pieces fell into place with terrifying clarity. Malachai wasn’t planning a ceremony of renewal, he was preparing for a ritual of absolute control. And given his recent focus on me, it was obvious who the target would be.
The water around me cooled as I contemplated the implications. The box, the ceremony, Thaddeus’s increasingly ruthless “training” sessions... none of them were intended to break me physically. They were meant to weaken my will and make me more susceptible to whatever dark power lay within that obsidian container. Whatever Malachai had planned for tonight’s ceremony, I would not face it unprepared.
The hours stretched agonizingly slow, perhaps due to my own anxiety about the inevitable. In less than an hour, the ceremony would to begin. The perpetual twilight outside my window had deepened to something closer to true night, though in Aetheria, such distinctions were often meaningless.
Standing before the full-length mirror, I carefully donned my armor. Each piece of the Darkweaver’s Embrace clicked into place with familiar precision, and it settled around me like a second skin. The purple flames in my chamber cast dancing shadows across the black metal, making the armor seem alive with shifting darkness.
My hands moved automatically through the familiar ritual of securing straps and checking joints, while my mind raced with thoughts. Malachai was dabbling in magic that was ancient, powerful, and incredibly dangerous. And the ritual he was planning could permanently alter or destroy a person’s very essence.
I secured the Talons of Twilight to my belt, drawing comfort from their familiar weight. The kukris pulsed faintly in response to my touch, as if they too sensed the approaching confrontation.
A knock at my door interrupted my thoughts.
“Got a minute, lad?” Baylin called.
I relaxed. “Enter.”
Baylin slipped in and closed the door quietly behind him. “Word of your intense training has been going around,” he said without preamble. “Thaddeus made sure everyone heard how you struggled.”
“Did he?” I kept my voice neutral while double-checking my armor’s straps. “Interesting that he’d take such care to spread that particular detail.”
“Aye.” Baylin moved closer, lowering his voice. “People are saying you barely held your own. That maybe your recent... successes... were more luck than skill.”
I understood the game being played. Malachai was working to undermine my reputation before whatever he had planned for tonight. A weakened opponent was easier to eliminate without raising too many questions.
“And what do you think, old friend?” I asked, studying Baylin’s face carefully.
He met my gaze steadily. “I think the shadows in this place grow deeper by the hour, and not all of them are cast by our sacred flames.” He paused, then added, “The ceremony tonight... be careful. Something feels wrong about all of this.”
“What do you suspect?”
“For the many years I have served in this order,” Baylin said slowly. “I’ve never seen the Grandmaster call for a ceremony of renewal at this phase of the moon. The timing is... not right.”
“I appreciate the warning, brother.” I finished checking my armor’s straps and moved to the mirror for one last inspection. Despite the day’s brutal training, I had taken extra care of my appearance. My dark hair was neatly combed and tied back, my short beard trimmed to precision. The Darkweaver’s Embrace gleamed in the purple light, each piece aligned perfectly. Even my weapons were positioned with careful attention to protocol.
Baylin watched my preparations with an appraising eye. “You clean up well, lad,” he said with approval.
“Thanks.” I adjusted the kukris sheathed at my waist.
“There’s definitely something different about you these days. You’ve got a presence, one that commands attention.”
“I’ve seen and experienced a lot in these past several months of being with the order. Those experiences can change a man.”
“Aye, they can. But this is different. I can see it in your eyes, your posture. There’s an air about you. Like something… regal. It suits you.”
I met his gaze in the mirror and remembered Valic’s words about kingship and destiny. “A crown’s weight is felt long before it’s worn,” I said quietly.
Baylin stroked his beard in thought. “That’s a pretty deep observation.” After a few moments, he started for the door. “Well, I best be going. See you soon, brother.” With that, he left, and I was alone once again with my thoughts.