The lantern's flame wavered, throwing shadows across the knives laid on the table. Each blade seemed to hum faintly, as if alive. Armand's eyes darted from face to face, searching for answers.
Grace Johnson sat beside him, calm and composed. "Every knife here carries a story," she said softly. "They are not weapons. They are voices."
One of the cloaked figures leaned forward. "The Circle of Silence was born centuries ago, when whispers carried truths too dangerous to be spoken aloud. We guard those truths, passing them from blade to blade, generation to generation."
Armand frowned. "You mean… the knives whisper secrets?"
Grace nodded. "Only to those who can hear. That's why you're here."
The figure at the head of the table lifted a long, slender dagger. Its edge gleamed in the lantern light. "This was the first Whisper," he said. "It carries the memory of betrayal, the warning of what silence can cost."
Armand felt the weight of the room pressing down on him. He wasn't sure if he believed in whispered knives or ancient circles, but the sound he had heard in class was real. Too real.
Grace leaned closer, her voice barely audible. "Tonight, you'll be tested. If you fail, the whisper will fade. If you succeed… it will never leave you."
The lantern sputtered again, and Armand realized the test had already begun.