Snow fell in thick flakes as the carriage crossed the ice-covered gates of Valos. Jin kept his hood low, his face nearly hidden by dark wool as the horses trudged through the frozen streets. In the distance, chimneys released wisps of smoke into the white sky, and the townsfolk hurried along, always hunched against the wind.
"No banners or trumpets awaited," Jin began his tale in his mind, narrating to the reader with the same cold, distant tone that surrounded him. "I arrived in Valos as a shadow among many. Just another hungry face lost in the mists."
The local guild was smaller than those in the capital, but rigid. A single hall with oak beams, a low fire in the hearths, and wary glances. Jin filled out the form without a name—just a symbol, a circle with three slashes. The clerk raised an eyebrow but didn't question it. Valos had its own secrets.
That week, he took on trivial tasks: hunting minor creatures, tracking lost merchants, retrieving a child hiding in the forest out of spite. Each mission was just another excuse to keep moving, to observe the world around him. He moved with precision, but without flair. He was surviving, nothing more.
On the eighth day, the cold felt crueler. Jin woke with stiff muscles and clotted blood on his sleeve after a clash with a dire-garros, a ravenous beast he'd agreed to track for a pitiful reward. He was injured, his breath heavy, his body sunk in snow up to his hips. The night sky loomed above like a tomb.
The beast lay dead a few meters away—its throat slashed with brutal effort. But Jin didn't rise. The cold sapped what little warmth remained in his bones. His fingers trembled, and his vision blurred. *Is this how it ends? Frozen in an empty valley? No…*
"Pathetic," a voice cut through his mind like a blade dipped in ice. Bouros. Always so contemptuous.
Jin gritted his teeth. "Shut up…"
"You're weak and useless… All that bravado, claiming you'd control me… and now you plan to die like this? Alone, reeking of blood, embraced by the snow like a lost dog…"
Jin's face twisted, but he didn't respond. He tried to move his arms, but the pain was excruciating. Bouros continued:
"This theater… this ridiculous stage… You're just a wounded boy playing at being a god of shadows. Without me, you'll rot right there."
Jin tried to lift himself, leaning on a sword he could barely feel in his hand. He staggered. Fell again.
"…You need me, Jin. Admit it. You need my strength if you want to see this through. What's the point of this stage if you don't even live to raise the curtain?"
Silence. Just the wind and Jin's eyes fixed on his hand, buried in the snow. Then, through gritted teeth, he spoke:
"Help me… for now."
Bouros laughed, a low, mocking chuckle. "The least I can do. Since you've forced me to dance with you… I won't let the maestro die without his audience."
The shadows around Jin stirred like liquid smoke. The snow darkened for a moment—the frozen blood evaporating under a sudden, dense heat. His muscles tensed. His pupils sharpened, feeling a new surge, something beyond the pain.
He stood.
Not with glory. But with something far more dangerous: determination.
As he trudged back through the snowy trail, Jin felt the shadows still dancing under his skin, as if vibrating with silent joy.
"Don't fool yourself," he murmured mentally. "This wasn't a victory. It was a concession."
He hated the relief he felt when Bouros answered. He hated even more that, deep down, a part of him was glad not to be alone.
Why did the bond still exist? Why had Bouros agreed to help?
*Maybe… because he needs me too.*
The thought sickened him. But more than that, it terrified him.
---
In the days that followed, Jin stayed on the outskirts of Valos. He slept in icy caves or abandoned cabins. He spoke to no one in the guild. But in his mind, Bouros was now more present. Ironically, more cooperative. The impatient spirit began guiding Jin in combat: how to manipulate the shadow of a fallen creature, how to conceal his presence in the shadows cast by moonlight.
Jin started testing the limits of their bond. On a frosty night, he briefly controlled the shadow of a deer, making it stumble slightly. On another, he mirrored his silhouette against a wall to distract a multi-eyed monster. Each success made his eyes gleam for a moment, as if something inside him was igniting. But he didn't smile.
Bouros watched with cold scorn:
"You're learning. But you're far from mastering it. Do you really want to step onto this stage, Jin? When the audience sees your true face… will they applaud or flee?"
Jin merely wiped his blade.
A week passed.
The snow fell in Valos with a silent weight, making the city's streets even colder and dimmer. Jin crossed a forest near the city's edge, sword in hand, his breath forming clouds in the icy air. His eyes scanned distorted tracks in the snow—not animal tracks. Something was prowling.
A scream pierced the air: sharp, brief, desperate.
Jin ran.
Leaping over snow-covered logs and twisted branches, he reached an open clearing—the white ground stained with dark splashes. A cave bear, wounded and furious, towered over a young archer, her broken bow at her side, her left shoulder torn, blood dripping down her dark blue coat. Her green eyes were wide, her lips trembling, but she stood her ground.
Jin didn't hesitate.
He charged without drawing attention. He slid under the bear's arm and drove his sword into its belly. The beast roared, trying to crush him with its hind paw, but Jin spun away at the last second, yanking the sword and sending blood gushing like a fountain onto the snow.
The bear collapsed, plunging the clearing into silence.
Jin was panting. He staggered. He hadn't eaten in two days, and that sprint had drained what little strength remained. The girl approached, breathless, trying to say something.
"You… you didn't have to…"
He only smiled. And fell to his knees.
"Idiot," she muttered. "Damned brave idiot."
Before losing consciousness, Jin felt warm hands touching his face.
---
He woke hours later, lying near an improvised campfire. They were under an overhanging rock, shielded from the wind. The girl watched him, arms crossed, her shoulder wound wrapped in tight bandages.
"You're terrible at taking care of yourself."
Jin tried to sit up, but she pushed him back down.
"Easy. I took care of you. You owe me one."
"…You were dying."
"And you were closer to it than I was."
The silence was filled only by the crackling of burning wood.
"Eira," she said finally. "My name."
"Jin."
"Jin," she repeated, as if testing the name on her lips. "You're foolish. But… you've got good reflexes. Planning to take on more missions around here?"
He nodded.
She smiled, raising an eyebrow. "Then don't follow me—we go together. Maybe you'll live longer that way."
Jin studied her for a few seconds. She was brash, almost insolent, but there was something genuine about her. A spark of light arrogance, but paired with a strong sense of justice—or perhaps stubbornness. After a month of solitude, he found himself talking more than usual with her.
"…I'm in."
She extended her hand. Jin shook it. And in that gesture, the first spark of an unexpected bond began to form—a shadow of something deeper rising with time.
Days passed since the mission was completed. They took on other minor tasks together. A mission to investigate strange monster movements south of Valos, deemed high-risk, was completed in less than a day.
The next night, the two shared a small campfire in an improvised shelter. The snow didn't stop outside, but inside, the warmth was enough to keep discomfort at bay.
Eira sipped something hot from a metal canteen, her eyes gleaming brighter than the flames.
"You always get like this after fights?" she asked, not looking directly at Jin.
"Like what?"
"Like you're somewhere else. Further than footsteps can reach."
He took a moment to respond. He thought about lying, but there was something comforting in how she spoke, as if she didn't expect an answer.
"It's not easy to come back," he said at last, staring at the fire. "Not after you've gone too far."
Eira let out a soft laugh, as if used to cryptic answers.
"Then come back slowly. I don't like talking to myself."
He glanced at her sideways, not smiling, but his eyes softer than usual.
Until a mission caught their attention.
It seemed simple: investigate strange activity in the hills east of Valos, where travelers reported noises at night and odd lights atop the rocky formations.
Eira walked ahead, stepping precisely on wet stones. Jin followed, silent as always, his eyes scanning the landscape.
As they neared the cliff's summit, they heard the metallic clash of swords. Then—screams.
Without hesitation, Jin and Eira raced along the narrow path to the plateau. The scene before them made them pause for a second.
Surrounded by at least ten figures in long robes and hoods that completely hid their faces, armed with long blades, two young fighters stood back-to-back. The young man wielded a curved sword with a bluish blade. The young woman, slightly smaller, danced with twin blades, spinning around her brother with deadly precision. They moved as if sharing the same heartbeat.
"It's them," Eira whispered. "The Twin Blades." Her voice was low, but she couldn't hide her grin. "I've always wanted to meet them."
Jin didn't reply. He was already moving.
The fight that followed was swift and brutal. The exhausted twins could only watch. Jin drew the hooded figures' attention with precise sword strikes—without using the shadows. Eira darted through the enemies like lightning, her light saber slicing the air. Their presence turned the tide.
The hooded figures fled or fell. And when silence returned, the twins were panting but alive.
"You're good with a sword," the young man said, pointing at Jin with his blade still in hand.
"Better than you, apparently," Jin replied without emotion.
The girl laughed. "Fliria," she introduced herself. "And this is my brother, Lino."
"Eira," she said, wiping her blade. "And this is… him."
Jin didn't respond. He just turned to leave.
"Hey," Lino called, jogging after him. "We're grateful for the help. Really. Apparently, there's a bounty on our heads… and those men… We were ambushed."
"Then you need to sharpen your senses," Jin said.
"You sound like my brother. Cold, direct, and cocky," Fliria said, appearing at his side. "I like it."
Eira shot Jin a curious look, waiting for his reaction. But he just started walking.
"You two continuing the mission alone?" Fliria asked. "Or are you okay with us tagging along for a bit? We're good with swords. And… not many people trust us. They say we cause too much trouble."
Eira looked at Jin.
"I don't mind," she said. "They've got style. And what else? Fame, too?"
"A bit," Lino replied, adjusting his cloak. "At the very least, they let us into taverns without paying."
Jin still said nothing. But as he resumed walking, he gave a slight nod. "Do what you want."
Fliria laughed. "Typical. We're coming with you, then."
Later, the four sat beneath a cliff, overlooking the river cutting through the forest. Fliria sharpened her brother's sword with care, while Lino cooked dinner, banging a spoon against the pot like it was a musical instrument. Eira lay back, hands behind her head, staring at the sky.
Jin sat in silence, his cloak wrapped around his legs, eyes half-closed.
Fliria watched him from the corner of her eye. After a while, she ventured:
"You don't talk much… but you're always listening, aren't you?"
He didn't answer right away. Then he murmured, as if to himself:
"The best songs are born from silence."
Eira gave a faint smile.
"Too poetic for a barbarian like you."
"Barbarian? He looks like a delicate prince," Lino teased, stirring the pot.
And so it was. The duo became a quartet.
In the days that followed, they completed the mission and took on other small tasks together. Their name was still a mystery to the twins, who called Jin "hey" or "you." Only Eira knew his true nature—and even she didn't know everything.
In the taverns, whispers began to spread about an unusual group that appeared now and then, solved problems, and vanished. No one knew their name or who led them. Only that they moved like seasoned veterans, and that their eyes—especially Jin's—seemed to see more than the world revealed.
With the group formed, Jin, Eira, Lino, and Fliria took on small missions together—escorts, hunts, and clearing ruins. Nothing grand, but their synergy grew with each battle. Jin remained quiet, only opening up to Eira in rare conversations. The twins, more outgoing, filled the silence with jokes and teasing. No one knew their name yet, but their actions were starting to draw attention—the attention Jin had fought so hard to avoid.