The city of Aurelia lay drowned in shadow. Even the moon, pale and distant, seemed to hesitate at the gates of the empire, as if afraid to witness what was about to unfold. Bravo Lucien moved through the silent streets, cloak drawn tight, boots muffled against cobblestones slick with rain.
Every step carried him closer to the alley where the shadow had first appeared—the one who had whispered secrets of power and vengeance into the night. His pulse thundered in his chest, equal parts fear and anticipation.
A low fog curled between the buildings, and from it emerged a figure. She was slender, her presence sharp, like a blade hidden in silk. Her hair was black as midnight, and her eyes glowed with an unnatural light.
"You came," she said, voice smooth as smoke. "I wondered if you would."
"Who are you?" Bravo demanded, voice steady despite the storm inside him.
"I am Selene," she replied, stepping closer. "A guide for those the empire discards. The bloodless. The unchosen. The ones who should have died."
Bravo's fingers brushed the pendant in his pocket—the last trace of Lyra's presence. "Then you know why I'm here."
Selene's smile was a knife wrapped in shadow. "I do. But nothing in this world comes without cost. Power… vengeance… salvation… all demand payment. Are you willing to pay it?"
He considered her words. The empire had humiliated him. His friends had betrayed him. Lyra had been taken. There was nothing left but the hunger for strength—and the fire of his resolve.
"I will pay," he said, voice low, unwavering. "Whatever it takes."
---
The chamber she led him to was hidden beneath the city, carved from stone older than the empire itself. Candles burned black, their flames curling like living shadows. The air reeked of iron and ancient magic.
"Here," Selene whispered, "is where the bloodless learn to claim what the bloodline denies them."
A circle was etched into the floor, strange runes glowing faintly in the darkness. Bravo stepped into it, shivering as shadows writhed and hissed around him.
"Your first lesson is simple," Selene said. "Pain is power. Fear is fuel. The world fears what it cannot control—and you will become uncontrollable."
He clenched his fists. Shadows licked at his skin, cold and demanding, biting into his resolve. His heartbeat thundered, and for a moment, the boy who had walked into the Hall of Inheritance—the boy who had failed—trembled.
Then came the surge. Agonizing fire tore through him, coursing along nerves and muscle, splitting his mind between who he had been and who he could become. Shadows sank into him, whispering secrets of hidden strength, of vengeance yet to come.
When the pain subsided, he fell to his knees, gasping. The chamber was silent—save for the soft echo of his ragged breaths.
"You survived," Selene said, her voice almost gentle. "Few do. And fewer still survive unchanged."
Bravo rose slowly, testing the force coursing through him. Shadows danced at his fingertips, subtle yet alive, responding