The chamber beneath the Citadel glowed with crystalline braziers, their pale blue light spilling across polished stone. The air was cool, heavy with wards etched into the walls, the kind that dampened sound so every word spoken here carried weight.
The four surviving candidates knelt in a line before Cor Leonis. Their shadows stretched long across the floor, framed by the flicker of light.
Kael knelt with perfect stillness, his hands resting lightly on his knees, his dark hair brushing forward to shadow his face. He did not fidget. He did not shift. Even here, he looked like someone half-vanished into the air.
Beside him, Rhea knelt with her head bowed, but a small, sly smile tugged at her lips. Even in silence, her sharp eyes flicked once toward Sirius and then forward again, her body language radiating a kind of playful pride.
And Sirius himself — he kept his head low, white hair spilling across his brow, crimson eyes lowered to the floor. His chest rose and fell with deliberate rhythm, his heart steady now despite the pounding beneath his ribs. He could feel the weight of the chamber, of the future pressing down on him.
This was the moment.
---
Cor's voice carried through the chamber, calm and cold. "You have survived your trials. You have endured. From this night, you stand as candidates of the Shadow Guard."
The words echoed, heavy as stone.
His gaze swept over them, sharp as blades, pinning each one in turn. "But remember the creed. It is all that binds you. Protect unseen. Bleed without witness."
The silence after seemed endless. Then, as one, the candidates repeated the words, their voices hushed but steady: "Protect unseen. Bleed without witness."
Sirius' lips shaped the vow — but inside, his heart whispered something more.
Protect unseen. Bleed without witness.
He paused. He let the silence stretch. Then, silently, he added: Never without meaning.
The words struck like steel hammered into him, searing into his bones. He would walk this path, yes. He would bleed if he must, unseen if he must. But he refused to believe a life could end as nothing. If he bled, it would matter.
Cor's gaze lingered on him for a heartbeat longer than the others. His face betrayed nothing, but Sirius felt it — as though his uncle had glimpsed something in him, some spark of defiance he could not name.
The moment passed.
---
Cor turned, drawing his katana in a smooth arc. The blade gleamed in the braziers' glow as he saluted once toward the Citadel above them, toward the unseen throne. His voice carried, firm and final.
"Rise, candidates of the Shadow Guard."
The four stood.
Kael rose like smoke taking shape, his expression unchanged but his presence sharper, as though the title had already begun to mold him.
Rhea stood with a faint grin, eyes glinting as if she had passed some private game. Pride shimmered in her like heat, but she masked it with a bow.
And Sirius rose last, steady, his red eyes lifting to the light. Outwardly, he was only another candidate, one of four. But in his heart, he carried more. He walked a different path — one that bore the same silence, but would leave meaning carved into the world.
The White Wolf had taken his first step into the creed.
---
The ceremony ended as suddenly as it began. The wards dimmed, the braziers' glow softened, and Cor dismissed them with a wave of his hand. No applause. No celebration. Just the silence of shadows welcoming new blood.
Kael disappeared first, already a phantom. Rhea lingered long enough to smirk at Sirius, whispering, "Guess we're really in now, White Wolf." Then she too slipped away, her laughter echoing faintly in the corridor. Sirius walked alone, climbing back into Insomnia's bright streets.
When the chamber was empty, Cor did not leave. He turned his head toward the far shadows.
A tall figure stepped forward, the folds of his royal cloak stirring faintly with the wards' dying glow. His beard was streaked with silver, his eyes heavy with years of rule and secrets.
King Regis had been there the entire time. Watching.
"You kept your presence hidden," Cor said, bowing his head.
Regis' voice was low, thoughtful. "And you gave them the creed without knowing their king was listening. It is good. Their loyalty must be to the creed first, not to the crown they cannot yet see."
Cor said nothing.
Regis' gaze lingered where Sirius had knelt only minutes before. "The white-haired boy. He is your nephew."
Cor's jaw tightened. "…Sirius Blake."
"A strange child," Regis murmured. "Too quiet, too heavy for his age. I have seen such eyes before—in soldiers who have bled a lifetime. He carries something unusual. Perhaps too unusual."
Cor folded his arms. "He learns faster than most. Endures more than he should. He will not break."
"That is what you hope," Regis said softly. He studied the shadows a moment longer. "Blood of Leonis runs through him. My line owes yours much. Still… I would not see a child consumed before his time."
Cor's gaze sharpened. "He chose this path."
Regis sighed, weary. "Or perhaps the path chose him." He turned, his cloak brushing the stone. "Watch him, Cor. Train him as you will. But remember—if he is to bleed in silence, let it not be wasted. Shadows should protect the light, not vanish for nothing."
For a moment, Cor's eyes flicked with a rare glint. Never without meaning.
But he said nothing. He only bowed as the king's footsteps faded, leaving the chamber once more in silence.
---
The city at night blazed with life. Towers pulsed with veins of crystal light. Magitek trams hummed along their rails, carrying passengers who chatted and laughed, blissfully unaware of the silent war fought beyond their barrier. Holo-screens glowed in storefronts, projecting news of treaties and trade, never touching the shadows Sirius had just sworn to join.
To Insomnia, it was just another night of peace.
But to Sirius, it was the night he ceased being a boy.
He walked through the neon glow, his reflection caught in the polished windows of magitek shops, his pale hair stark against the crowd. Whispers followed him, faint and curious, but he paid them no mind. His thoughts were elsewhere.
He pictured Lyla.
He saw her at home, sitting by the window with a shawl over her shoulders, her white hair gleaming faintly under the lantern's glow. He imagined her smile, soft and warm despite the fatigue that never left her eyes. He heard her voice, gentle, reminding him: You're helping more than you know.
His chest tightened.
Never without meaning.
The vow wasn't just for the Guard. It wasn't just for Lucis. It was for her. For the mother who carried her illness in silence, who smiled despite pain, who deserved more than a son who vanished without leaving a mark.
For her, he would make his shadow matter.
---
By the time Sirius reached home, the vow had settled in him like steel cooled from the forge. He paused at the door, hand resting against it, hearing the faint hum of wards inside, the quiet safety of their home.
He breathed once, steady. Then he entered, crimson eyes calm but burning with resolve.
The Shadow Guard had gained another candidate that night.
But Lyla Blake had gained something far greater.
Her son's vow.