The shadow creatures moved with predatory purpose at Malachai’s will. “Don’t just see the shadows, become one with them,” he instructed.

Listening to his words, I began to understand. There was a connection between the shadows and my very essence. The Darkweaver’s Embrace wasn’t merely protecting me, it was teaching me, showing me how to reach out with my will and grasp the darkness itself. The Talons of Twilight pulsed in harmony with this new awareness, their curved blades eager to drink up the creatures’ essence.

This method was nothing like the simple concealment I’d always used. Back then, shadows had simply been tools, places to hide, and ways to avoid detection. I had worked with darkness, but always as something external, something to be used and discarded as needed.

But this was different. Where once I had simply hidden in darkness, now I could command it, shape it, and turn it into a weapon as deadly as any blade. The power flowing through my veins wasn’t just enhancing my old abilities, it was transforming them into something far more potent.

The shadows responded to my thoughts, coiling around me like eager serpents. Where before they had probed for weaknesses, now they awaited my command. The sensation was intoxicating—power beyond anything I’d known in my previous life. “I feel… something…” I muttered.

“Show me that you understand,” Malachai challenged, then sent forth one of the shadow-monsters towards me. These creatures weren’t copies of my past, they were elements of pure darkness, their forms shifting and changing like smoke in the wind.

I moved without conscious thought, letting instinct guide me. The shadows bent to my will, extending my reach beyond the physical limits of my blades.

The creature lunged, its form resolving into something with too many teeth and claws. But I was no longer bound by normal laws of movement. I flowed like liquid darkness, the armor making me one with the shadows around us. The Talons of Twilight, their edges wreathed in dark power, struck in perfect harmony, slicing through the creature’s form.

“Good,” Malachai acknowledged as the monster dissolved under my blades. “But can you do more than just react? Show me control!”

His command resonated through my veins. I reached out with my will, not just feeling the shadows but commanding them. Power flowed through me, cold and intoxicating. Then I gathered the dark energy into a swirling vortex around my form with a mere thought. The temperature dropped so low that breath frosted in the air, and ice spread across the chamber floor in intricate patterns.

Malachai sent forth three more creatures, each more grotesque than the last. But now I could see them for what they were—not just monsters, but concentrations of the same power I was learning to control.

The shadow-creatures attacked me from all sides, their forms shifting between nightmarish configurations. But the Darkweaver’s Embrace allowed me to flow between them like smoke, each movement precise and deadly.

The chamber pulsed with ominous energy as I moved through the conjured creatures, striking swiftly and sending ripples of power through the air.

The spectating blackguards had fallen completely silent now, their attention fixed on the deadly dance unfolding before them. Even Corvus’s crows had ceased their restless movement, their jet-black eyes reflecting the purple fire of my blades.

The sensation of wielding shadow was unlike anything I’d experienced before. Each command of darkness felt natural, as if I’d been born to this power. Cold energy coursed through my veins, and I could feel the shadows responding to my very heartbeat.

This must be what true power feels like, I thought as I observed my enhanced strikes tear through another construct. Not the petty authority of city guards or the borrowed influence of noble patrons. This is real power—primal, absolute.

The shadows around me exploded outward in a wave of pure darkness, responding to my unleashed will. Frost crystals formed in the air like deadly stars.

The spectators shifted in their seats, their armor creaking as some leaned forward while others drew back from the display of raw power.

“More!” Malachai commanded, his voice resonating with sinister approval. “Show me what lies within your soul!”

The challenge ignited something deep inside me—a hunger for power I’d always denied, a darkness I’d kept carefully contained. But here, in this chamber of shadows and ancient power, there was no need for restraint. The Talons of Twilight sang in my hands as I unleashed everything I’d held back.

The remaining creatures charged as one, their bodies twisting into abstract forms. But I was beyond fear now, beyond the limitations of my former life. The shadows responded to my will like eager servants, and the Talons of Twilight cut through the darkness itself.

Each movement was a statement of power, each strike a rejection of what I’d once been. The kukris left trails of purple-black energy in their wake, and where they struck, reality itself seemed to shudder. The Darkweaver’s Embrace amplified my connection to the darkness, turning my body into a conduit for forces I was only beginning to understand.

Then, I felt a strange sensation come over me. A drastic change within me, as if the vestiges of my old self were being burned away by dark flames.

“Yes!” Malachai’s voice of approval boomed through the chamber. “Now show me the killing stroke!”

The shadows gathered around me into a swirling maelstrom of power. The spectators scooted to the edge of their seats as the dark energy built to a crescendo. Even Corvus’s crows took flight, cawing in excitement.

With only a thought, I released the gathered power. The shadows exploded outward in a wave of pure destruction, tearing through the monsters like they were made of smoke. The blast of dark energy rattled the very foundations of the chamber, and for a moment, a veil of pitch blackness consumed everything.

Moments later, as the darkness lifted, the chamber was deathly still. Black ice covered every surface. The spectators sat motionless, their armor reflecting the cold gleam of my still-blazing kukris.

Malachai approached me, the trophies at his belt clinking softly as he moved with slow, deliberate steps. “Well done, initiate. You’ve shown not just potential, but true understanding.” He made a small hand gesture, and the remaining shadows in the chamber gathered around him like a living cloak. “Welcome to the first step of your new existence.”

The trial was over, but as I stood there, feeling the cold power coursing through my veins, I knew this was only another of many to come.

“You feel it, don’t you?” Malachai asked, his helmet tilting slightly as he studied me. “The hunger for more. The realization that everything you knew about power was a lie.”

He was right. The authority I’d respected in my previous life—the watch captains, the nobles, even the magistrates—seemed laughable now. They had played at power, wielding it like children with wooden swords. This... this was something else entirely.

“The shadows have accepted you,” Malachai continued, “but it is only a taste of what is possible. Mastery will require more than just successful trials.” He turned to address the spectators. “What say you, brothers? Shall we begin this one’s training?”

The assembled warriors struck their weapons against their armor in a rhythm like dark thunder. The sound echoed through the chamber, making the shadows dance and the frost patterns shimmer with deadly beauty.

Above, the murder of crows circled in an ever-tightening spiral. The chamber’s purple light seemed to pulse in time with their movement, creating an otherworldly atmosphere that made the air itself feel alive.

“Tomorrow,” Malachai’s voice cut through the din, “we begin forging you into something new. Something darker. Rest well, initiate. You’ll need all your strength for what comes next.”

Stolen novel; please report.

As the gathered blackguards began to disperse, I caught Malachai’s subtle gesture—a slight tilt of his helmet towards the chamber’s far exit. The invitation was clear, though unspoken. I followed, and for a moment, I caught a glimpse of my own reflection in a sheet of frost. But the face looking back at me wasn’t entirely human anymore. These newfound powers had left their mark on my very flesh. Faint, dark purple veins spread along my face and arms, like cracks in ice. My eyes held the same purple fire that burned in the kukris.

The transformation had begun, and there would be no turning back.

The massive doors opened silently at our approach, revealing a torch-lit corridor beyond. The transition from the chamber’s supernatural cold to the fortress’s normal chill felt almost warm.

“Impressive display,” Malachai said as we entered the corridor. “Most initiates take days to achieve even basic shadow manipulation. You managed advanced techniques in your first trial.” He turned to study me. “The Dread Lord clearly favors you.”

I blinked once. Does Malachai know of my encounter with Valic? The way he spoke seemed reverent, but gave no indication he knew of my connection to the dark god. I stayed silent, deciding it was better to keep that knowledge to myself for now.

“Your name,” Malachai said suddenly. “You’ve earned the right to be known by it.”

The request caught me off guard, though it shouldn’t have. I realized that in all my time here, no one had asked my name. Not during my arrival, not during the initial training, not even during the equipment selection. I had been just another initiate, another potential failure not worth the effort of remembering.

It made perfect sense. Why waste time learning the name of someone who might not survive their first trial? It was ruthlessly efficient, exactly what I would expect from Malachai’s leadership. My respect for him deepened with this understanding.

“Caelum,” I replied, the name feeling strange on my transformed tongue. “Caelum Steelwind.”

He was silent for a moment. “Steelwind…” he repeated, as if contemplating the name. “It bears nobility. Though you fight with skills rarely taught to nobles.”

The back of my throat tightened, but I kept my expression neutral.

“Names have power,” he continued. “But it’s what we make of them that truly matters.” He studied me for another moment, and I could feel his assessment like a physical weight. “We shall see what you make of yours, Caelum Steelwind.”

The way he said my name seemed to give it new meaning, as if he were marking me as something more than just another prospect. I had earned the right to be known, to be recognized as an individual.

Malachai reached up and removed his helmet with deliberate grace, revealing his face for the first time since my arrival at the fortress. The sight caught me off guard. I had expected someone older and terrifying. Instead, I found myself looking at a face that commanded attention through sheer charisma.

He was perhaps a decade my senior, with features that spoke of both nobility and hardship. Short black hair fell in natural waves, framing a face that could have belonged to a general or a king. His neatly trimmed beard accentuated a strong jaw, while dark brown eyes held the calculating intensity of a master strategist. Those eyes seemed to take in everything, analyzing and assessing even the smallest details with military precision.

Most striking was the scar that ran down his left temple, a deep groove that pulsed with purple energy, as if whatever had marked him had left traces of its power behind. The wound should have marred his appearance, but instead it only added to his commanding presence.

Looking at him, I understood why so many followed his lead without question. He carried himself with the easy confidence of someone who had earned his position through merit rather than mere ambition. He radiated an aura of authority that made me want to stand straighter, to prove myself worthy of his attention.

“You have questions,” he said, his voice carrying the same resonance even without the helmet’s echo. “That’s good. Curiosity drives us to seek greater power.” His eyes studied my transformed features with clinical interest. “But remember, some questions are better left unasked until you’re ready for their answers.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of his assessment. Malachai was someone who had walked the path I was only beginning to tread, who had embraced the darkness and emerged stronger. I had to recognize that respect. In him, I saw the embodiment what I could become—a master of shadow and steel, someone who commanded respect through power and presence rather than mere rank or title.

Corvus materialized from the shadows beside us. The crows that had watched the trial now perched on his shoulders.

“Corvus,” Malachai said, “show our new brother—Calem Steelwind—to the Nightshade Wing. He’s earned private quarters.”

Corvus paused, his head tilting slightly, as though he were unsure about something, Perhaps he was contemplating my name. Or perhaps private quarters weren’t standard for initiates. Finally, with a nod of acknowledgement, he turned and continued down the corridor. “Follow.”

We walked through passages that seemed to defy normal architecture. Arched hallways twisted at impossible angles, their walls decorated with reliefs etched with abstract, ominous designs. Shadows moved in the corners of my vision, and occasionally I caught glimpses of other chambers where blackguards trained in other dark arts that I did not recognize.

At last, we reached the Nightshade Wing. Veins of purple crystal pulsed through the stone walls like frozen lightning. Black iron doors lined the corridor, each marked with runes that glowed with inner fire.

“Your quarters,” Corvus announced, stopping before one such door. The runes upon it flared to life, seeming to recognize my presence. “The shadows here respond to their master’s will. You’ll find everything you need inside.”

The door swung open silently, revealing a chamber that perfectly balanced luxury with dark aesthetics. The veins of glowing purple light that spider-webbed the walls provided subtle illumination. A massive canopy bed dominated one wall, its black silk sheets and purple velvet hangings rippling slightly in a nonexistent breeze.

The chamber was larger than any room I’d ever had in my previous life. A writing desk of polished obsidian stood near a window that looked out over Aetheria’s twisted landscape, the blood-red sky casting an eternal twilight through the glass.

Weapons racks lined one wall, their empty brackets waiting to hold the Talons of Twilight. Beside them stood an armor stand that seemed to be made of living shadow.

A large fireplace occupied another wall, though instead of normal flames, it contained a writhing mass of purple-black energy that gave off cold rather than heat. Several comfortable-looking chairs of black leather were arranged near the fireplace. Bookshelves flanked the fireplace, already filled with ancient tomes. Their leather bound spines bore titles in unfamiliar languages.

The floor was polished obsidian, but unlike normal stone, it seemed to have depth, as if I was standing on a ledge looking down into the abyss. Plush rugs of deep purple placed strategically around the room provided islands of solidity.

In one corner stood a wardrobe, its doors made of the same wood as the bed frame. When I approached, it opened silently to reveal an array of clothing—all black, all made of materials that seemed to shift between solid and shadow. The craftsmanship was exquisite, each piece designed to complement the Darkweaver’s Embrace when I wasn’t wearing the full armor.

A wooden tub dominated an alcove near the bed, partially hidden by an ornate room divider. The sight of the tub made my heart leap. For the amount of time I’d spent rotting away in the dungeons awaiting my trial, I couldn’t remember the last time I had a proper bath. The tub was easily large enough for two people.

“A bathtub!” I exclaimed before I could stop myself, then immediately regretted my outburst when Corvus turned his blindfolded face toward me.

“You seem... unusually excited about basic amenities,” he observed, his tone carrying a note of suspicion. “Most nobles take such things for granted.”

“I just... particularly enjoy baths,” I said quickly, trying to smooth over my mistake. “There’s nothing quite like a long soak after training.”

Corvus was silent for a moment, and though I couldn’t see his eyes, I could feel his assessment. The crows on his shoulders shuffled their feathers, their black eyes fixed on me with uncomfortable intensity.

“Indeed,” he finally said, his tone carefully neutral. “Should you wish to have your bath drawn, simply summon one of the servants.”

It was clear he didn’t believe my excuse, but he seemed content to let the matter drop—for now, at least. I made a mental note to be more careful about such reactions in the future. My true background might not stay secret for long if I kept slipping up like that.

“The chamber will adapt to your needs and preferences as you grow in power,” Corvus explained. “The stronger you become, the more the room will reflect your mastery of darkness.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. The room was breathtaking. Not just for its size or beauty, but for the sheer sense of power that emanated from it. It felt like a sanctuary, a place where darkness wasn’t just accepted, but celebrated. This was my new home, a space earned through blood and sacrifice. A place where I could truly be myself.

A strange silence fell over the room, broken only by the soft crackling of the braziers. I watched Corvus move with an uncanny grace towards the door. Since the first time I saw him, I noticed how he navigated the world with ease, as though he could see perfectly well. It was unnerving, yet strangely compelling.

Hesitantly, I asked, “Corvus… sir… if I may ask... are you… really blind?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken implications. The crows on his shoulder let out mocking caws. Then he turned his head towards me. “Are you really a noble?”

My stomach clenched. The question was a loaded one, a challenge disguised as polite inquiry. I wasn’t sure how to answer. My past life, the cramped streets and endless struggle for survival, felt like a distant memory. But was I truly free from it? Could I ever truly escape the assumptions and prejudices that came with being a lowly commoner?

I hesitated, searching for the right words, but Corvus simply smiled, a thin, knowing smirk that sent a shiver down my spine. “Rest, Caelum,” he said, his voice devoid of any further emotion. “Tomorrow’s training will test more than just your combat abilities. Malachai sees great potential in you. Do not disappoint him.” With that, he seemed to dissolve into the shadows as he left the room. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Alone in my new quarters, I moved to a full-length mirror mounted on one wall, finally able to properly examine the changes I’d glimpsed earlier.

What am I becoming?

But as I stared back at my reflection, the shadows in the room responded to my thoughts, coiling around me like loyal pets. The power thrumming through my veins felt just right, like I’d finally discovered my true nature.

Tomorrow would promise new challenges, new discoveries. But for now, I had taken my first steps on the path to becoming a warrior of the shadows.

A servant of the Dread Lord.