The obsidian throne room was cold, swallowed by midnight shadows that even the burning braziers could not entirely defeat. Twelve figures stood in a flawless, silent line before the dais. Five girls and seven boys, their faces illuminated only by the flickering orange fire.
King Voss Halloway looked down at them, his eyes gleaming with a terrible, calculated weight.
"Step forward and speak your names to the crown," the king commanded, his voice echoing off the stone walls. "Let me hear what the world called you before tonight."
The first youth, a boy with a scarred jaw, stepped out. "Vash Elrath, your Majesty."
"Val Tenebri," a tall girl with silver-threaded hair said.
"Kry Tyrs," a short, wire muscled boy muttered.
"Rion Malakor," the middle mercenary brother stated, his voice flat.
"Thia Zephyr," another girl whispered.
"My name is Joru Stryker" a broad-shouldered youth declared.
"Ruii Puddles," the next boy said.
"Nyxy Arcs," a young woman with heavily calloused hands murmured.
"Lean Orstin," a sharp eyed boy said.
"Nixora Stryker," the fourth girl replied.
"Mystical Drake" the last boy finished, standing close to the final girl.
A youth with fingers stained a deep, rocky grey from her elemental affinities, stepped forward last. Her gaze did not waver as she met the king's eyes. "Pyrexis Stonehart," she said cleanly.
King Voss let the names hang in the heavy air for a long moment before a dark, mocking smile touched his lips. He raised a single, ringed hand. "Those names are dead. They are no longer your names. You have surrendered your pasts to the crown, and the crown does not require the heavy baggage of your families."
He walked down the steps, stopping directly in front of the middle mercenary brother. "From this breath onward, you will answer only to a single word. Your family name is stripped away. Malakor, you are Vesper." He slid a polished metal token into the boy's hand. "Your ranking is Seven."
He moved down the line, his voice a steady, rhythmic drumbeat as he stripped their identities down to singular words using only their last names.
"Elrath, you are Glimmer, rank Twelve."
'Tenebri, you are Razor, rank Eleven."
"Orstin, you are Shard, rank Ten."
'Zephyr, you are Hollow, rank Nine."
"Stryker, you are Bleak, rank Eight.'
"Puddles, you are Talon, rank Six.'
"Arcs, you are Cinder, rank Five."
"Tyrs, you are Echo, rank Four."
The king paused, stopping in front of the final three combatants. A heavy silence settled over the room as he looked at Nixora first.
"Nixora, your new name is Mirage, rank Three."
He moved to last boy. "Mystical, your new name is Grim, rank Two."
He stopped at the very end of the line, facing the grey fingered girl. The needle stone user did not blink.
"Pyrexis, your new name is Phantom. You are the apex of this vanguard." He pressed a heavy gold token into her palm. "Your ranking is One."
Voss walked back up the stairs, turning to address the entire room. The other contestants shifted slightly, their eyes locked onto the trio with a mixture of envy and fear. The hierarchy was clear.
"I chose the three of you for the top positions because you possess a rare trait. Mirage, Grim, Phantom. You three did not just survive the gauntlet. You displayed an absolute lack of hesitation when it was time to kill."
"He is not giving us titles," Phantom thought, her fingers tightening around the metal until the edges bit into her skin. "He's branding us like cattle. I am no longer a person to him. I am just a weapon with a number."
King Voss turned his back on them, walking back up toward his throne. "Your custom cloaks will be made in three days time. You will be paid a high monthly sum from the royal treasury, but your loyalty must be absolute. You belong to the Grim Phantoms now. Dismissed."
"Your Majesty" The twelve said in unison, their boots clicking against the marble as they vanished into the outer corridors.
Voss watched them leave before turning toward the shadow beside the grand pillar. Renci stepped out, his torso heavily bound in clean white bandages that showed faint spots of fresh blood.
"You look terrible, Renci, but you performed beautifully," Voss said, a genuine warmth filtering into his tone.
Renci winced sharply, his fingers tightly gripping his left forearm. "The healers could not remove the stone, your Majesty. That needle stone user actually managed to deeply pierce my arm earlier. The fragment is lodged right against the bone."
"The gauntlet was a magnificent show regardless," Voss replied, waving a hand as he stepped closer to his throne. "It is time for you to be rewarded properly. It is time for you to be married into the royal family."
Renci offered a stiff bow, though a heavy sigh escaped his lips. "I would love to be married, your Majesty, but there is one major obstacle. Athena doesn't want anything to do with me. She hates me."
King Voss chuckled softly, waving his hand in dismissal. "She is young, Renci. I am sure she will come around eventually. It's not like she has many other options in Aetheron. You are my champion. She will learn her place beside you."
Miles away from the gleaming capital, the absolute silence of the Whiteflame ruins offered no comfort.
Kota tossed violently. His teeth were clenched so hard his jaw ached, and his shirt was completely soaked through with sweat.
The dark, volatile energy inside his chest was roaring, reacting violently to the approaching April deadline. The Yen overflow was becoming an absolute hassle to control, a heavy weight that felt like iron weights pressing down on his lungs.
"I cant breathe," Kota thought, his eyes snapping open in the dark.
"This energy is going to tear my chest wide open if I just lie here."
Unable to find a single moment of sleep, he pushed himself up. He moved silently, slipping past the sleeping forms of Leiya, Thorne, Mira and Jaeger. He needed space. He needed air.
Leaving the camp behind, Kota wandered off into the jagged, ash choked ruins alone, his left arm trembling as the dark steam began to rise from his skin once more.