The Brass Foundry was cold despite the afternoon sun struggling through Grimwald's perpetual haze. Elias arrived precisely on time, his six shadows arranged in a formation that suggested confidence without aggression. Shade flowed at his feet, Crimson hovered at shoulder height, Whisperfang's chains dragged softly behind, Ember flickered with steady light, and Hunger crouched at the periphery, wrapped in restraints.
Magistrate Verne waited with three council members, their expressions carefully neutral. They'd expected him to accept or refuse their offer—the presence of written terms suggested something more complicated.
"Voidsinger," Verne greeted. "We're pleased you've reached a decision."
"I have terms," Elias said, laying the folded paper on the table between them. "Association, as you offered. But with boundaries."
The heavyset merchant—Councilor Brennus, Elias had learned—picked up the paper, scanning it quickly. His eyebrows rose. "These are... specific."
"I've learned that vague agreements create problems." Elias kept his voice level. "I'll support the guild when Solnera threatens Grimwald's independence. I'll lend my capabilities for defense against external forces. But I won't be deployed for internal politics, guild rivalries, or economic disputes unrelated to foreign influence."
"That limits our flexibility considerably," another council member observed.
"It prevents you from using me as a weapon against other Grimwald factions. I'm not interested in local power struggles."
Verne studied the document more carefully. "You've included provisions for compensation, medical support, and intelligence sharing. You're treating this as a formal contract, not an alliance."
"Because that's what it is. I'm offering services in exchange for resources and protection. That's a contract, not friendship."
"Some might find that cold."
"Some might find it honest." Elias met her gaze steadily. "I'm not powerful enough to stand completely alone, but I'm not desperate enough to surrender autonomy. This is the middle ground. Take it or leave it."
The council members exchanged glances. Brennus spoke first: "The terms are reasonable, if more formal than we anticipated. But there's a practical concern: what happens when Solnera's threat and guild interests diverge? When defending Grimwald's independence requires actions that harm our commercial relationships?"
"Then we negotiate. Like the contract specifies." Elias had anticipated this question. "I'm not naive—I know politics is complicated. But I won't be maneuvered into situations where I'm told something is necessary for Grimwald when it's really just convenient for the guild."
"That's going to make things messy," another council member warned.
"Probably. But honest mess is better than false clarity."
Verne set down the document, her scarred throat working as she considered. Finally, she spoke: "The guild accepts your terms. We'll formalize this as a defensive association contract—you provide capabilities against external threats, we provide resources and political support. Boundaries as specified, with regular review to address unforeseen complications."
She extended her hand. "Welcome to formal association with the Crimson Guild, Voidsinger. May this partnership prove beneficial to both parties."
Elias shook her hand, feeling Shade pulse approval through their connection. The shadow understood the importance of clearly defined relationships—it had learned that lesson during the binding of Whisperfang.
"One additional matter," Verne said as she released his hand. "Your association needs to be announced publicly. Solnera should know you have backing before they arrive. How do you want this communicated?"
"Directly. No ceremony, no symbolism. Just facts: the Voidsinger has entered defensive association with the Crimson Guild. Anyone threatening Grimwald threatens both."
"Efficient. I approve." Verne nodded to one of the council members. "Draft the announcement. Distribution by tomorrow evening."
As Elias turned to leave, Brennus called out: "Voidsinger? One question, if you'll indulge me."
"Go ahead."
"Why now? You could have negotiated these terms during our first meeting. Why wait until Solnera announced they're sending another force?"
Elias considered his answer carefully. "Because I needed to understand what I was agreeing to. First time, I was too exhausted and confused to think clearly. This time, I've had space to figure out what I'm willing to give and what I need to keep."
"And what do you need to keep?"
"The ability to look at myself in a mirror without flinching."
Brennus's expression softened slightly. "A more valuable thing than most realize. Good luck maintaining it, Voidsinger. Power has a way of eroding that particular ability."
"I've noticed."
The Collective's Response
The meeting with Garris and the Copper Street Collective leadership was less formal but more contentious.
They gathered in a warehouse near the docks, a dozen merchants and business owners representing various trades. Most looked pleased to see Elias—until he laid out his terms.
"You want us to submit our resistance plans for your approval?" A textile merchant's face reddened. "That's not coordination, that's control."
"It's preventing you from taking actions that put people at risk without understanding the consequences," Elias corrected. "I'm willing to support the Collective's resistance to Solneran influence. But I won't be responsible for protecting reckless decisions I wasn't consulted about."
"We managed resistance before you showed up," another merchant argued.
"Small-scale resistance. Quiet slowdowns that Solnera tolerated because they weren't worth addressing." Garris spoke up, his voice carrying authority. "But after the Voidsinger's victory over Caius, the situation changed. Solnera sees Grimwald as actively hostile now. That means anything we do carries higher risk."
"Which is exactly why we need coordination," Elias pressed. "I'm not asking to control your businesses or dictate your decisions. I'm asking that before you take actions that might draw Solneran retaliation, you tell me. Let me assess whether I can actually protect you if things go wrong."
A shipping manager frowned. "And if you decide we can't be protected? Do we just accept Solneran control?"
"No. But you make informed decisions about risk. Maybe you proceed anyway, knowing the danger. Maybe you find different approaches. But at least you know what you're walking into."
The merchants murmured among themselves. Elias could see the division—some appreciated the caution, others resented the restriction. Garris let the debate run for several minutes before raising his hand for silence.
"The Collective votes. Those in favor of coordination with the Voidsinger under his proposed terms?"
Eight hands rose. Four remained down. Not unanimous, but majority.
"Motion carries." Garris turned to Elias. "You have your coordination. But understand: some of our members will resist this structure. They'll see it as limiting their freedom."
"Their freedom ends where my responsibility begins," Elias said. "If they want to resist Solnera without coordination, that's their choice. But they do it without my protection."
"Fair enough." Garris extended his hand. "To partnership, with all its complications."
Elias shook it, noting the rough calluses of someone who'd worked with his hands for decades. These were practical people, not politicians. That made negotiating simultaneously easier and harder—they valued honesty but also resented anything that smelled like control.
"One more thing," Elias added. "The chalked drawing near the Canal District—the one showing me as a protector. I need you to spread word that I'm not a symbol. I'm just someone with capabilities who's willing to help within limits. No legends, no myths, no expectations I can't meet."
"That drawing came from ordinary people, not the Collective," Garris said. "We can't control what stories they tell themselves."
"But you can discourage false expectations. I'm not a hero from legend. I'm a binder learning as I go, and I make mistakes. People need to understand that."
"We'll do what we can. But Elias?" Garris's expression was sympathetic. "Stories grow whether you want them to or not. The more you try to control your image, the more it slips away from you. Might be better to just do the work and let the stories sort themselves out."
The old merchant was probably right, but Elias had to try. The gap between reality and reputation was dangerous—it created expectations he couldn't meet, which would lead to disappointment and resentment when he inevitably failed to live up to the myth.
Evening Conversation
Back at the tenement, Mira was waiting with news of her own.
"I've been tracking Solneran movements," she said, spreading papers across the table. "Ships in the harbor, new arrivals at the Embassy Quarter, supply purchases. They're preparing for something significant."
Elias studied her notes. The Solnerans had requisitioned warehouse space—far more than Caius's operation had required. They'd hired local workers for construction projects, details unspecified. And several ships had arrived carrying sealed cargo that hadn't gone through normal customs inspection.
"They're establishing permanent infrastructure," Elias concluded. "Not just another Flamebearer coming to eliminate a threat. This is occupation preparation."
"That's what I thought too." Mira's finger traced a pattern on the map. "Look at the locations they've secured: access to major trade routes, proximity to guild headquarters, sight lines to government buildings. They're positioning themselves to control the city."
Crimson descended from the ceiling, its geometric patterns analyzing the map. Through their connection, Elias felt the shadow's assessment: the Solneran positions formed an efficient network for surveillance and rapid deployment. This was the work of strategic planners, not just combat specialists.
"Caius's defeat didn't scare them off," Elias said slowly. "It convinced them they need to commit more resources."
"Exactly. You won the battle, but it might have made the war inevitable."
The weight of that settled heavily. Elias had fought Caius to survive, never considering that victory might escalate rather than resolve the conflict. Now Solnera was doubling down, investing in long-term control rather than backing off.
"I need to get stronger," he said quietly. "Six shadows isn't enough for what's coming."
"The Seventh?"
"Eventually. But not yet." Elias looked at his shadows, spread throughout the room. Each one represented a binding, a cost, a piece of himself integrated with something other. "I need to master what I have first. Really master it, not just maintain control. The Codex said I'm not ready for the Seventh, and after what happened with Hunger..."
He didn't need to finish. They both remembered Davos, remembered the vacant eyes and the cost of hasty binding.
"So what do you do?" Mira asked. "Train while Solnera establishes themselves?"
"Train smart. Build actual mastery over my current shadows. Strengthen the alliances I've just formed. Learn everything I can about what Solnera's planning." Elias pulled out the Codex, but it remained stubbornly closed. "And hope that's enough."
"That's a lot of hoping."
"It's all I've got."
Night Training
Unable to sleep, Elias took his shadows to the rooftops for training. Not combat drills this time, but synchronization exercises—learning to maintain awareness of all six simultaneously while under stress.
He started simple: having each shadow perform different tasks at once. Shade mapping nearby buildings. Crimson calculating structural weaknesses. Whisperfang testing the sound-dampening qualities of fog. Ember maintaining steady heat output despite wind. Hunger... Hunger was the challenge.
"You need a purpose beyond feeding," Elias told the crouched shadow. "A function that doesn't require constant restraint."
Through their connection, he felt Hunger's confusion. Its nature was appetite, consumption, the erasure of memory. How could it have purpose beyond that?
"Reconnaissance," Elias decided. "You can sense memories, right? Feel the residue of past events in places. Use that. Tell me what happened on this rooftop before we arrived."
Hunger hesitated, then extended tendrils across the tiles. Where they touched, Elias felt echoes—fragments of conversations, ghosts of presence. Someone had been here recently. Two people, arguing about... something. The specifics were fuzzy, already fading.
But it was information. Useful information, gathered without consuming anything.
"Good," Elias encouraged. "That's your new primary function. Sensing the past, reading spaces, gathering intelligence. Feeding is secondary—only when I explicitly command it."
Hunger's empty eyes fixed on him, processing this new directive. Slowly, the shadow shifted, chains loosening slightly as its posture changed from predatory crouch to alert watchfulness.
Through their connection, Elias felt the shift: Hunger accepting this new purpose, integrating it into its understanding of itself. It would still hunger—that was its nature—but now it had another outlet, another way to be useful beyond destruction.
"That's one problem solved," he muttered. "Only about six hundred more to go."
Shade pressed against his leg, amused. The shadows were learning, adapting, growing. But so was Elias, figuring out how to be a binder rather than just someone who collected power.
The Codex appeared in his hand, opened to a new page:
The binder who commands is weaker than the binder who collaborates. You are learning this truth. Continue. The Seventh waits, but waiting teaches its own lessons.
Solnera approaches with occupation in mind. They bring not just power, but systems—infrastructure, bureaucracy, the slow machinery of empire. Can six shadows resist an institution? Can partnerships stand against organized control?
These questions have no easy answers. But you have ten days to prepare. Use them wisely.
The book closed itself with finality.
Elias looked out over Grimwald—his city now, in ways he'd never intended. Fog rolled through streets below, concealing and revealing in equal measure. Somewhere in that maze of stone and smoke, Solneran agents were building the framework of occupation. And somewhere else, ordinary people were drawing pictures of a Voidsinger who protected them, building myths around a young man who just wanted to survive.
"Ten days," he said to his shadows. "We train, we prepare, we become better than we are. And then we see if that's enough."
Six shadows pulsed acknowledgment. Above them, stars struggled to pierce Grimwald's eternal haze. Below, a city slept, unaware of the storm gathering on its horizon.
And on a rooftop between earth and sky, a shadow-binder worked through the night, trying to become worthy of the responsibilities he'd accepted and the power he'd claimed.
The countdown had begun.