They say when a Shade calls to you… it whispers your true name.

Most Tamers go their whole lives without hearing that voice. They bind their Shades through ritual, conquest, or debt. But a true calling? That’s rare.

And dangerous.

It was just before dawn.

The sky above Drelven’s outskirts was bruised violet, like it hadn't slept. Neither had I. Seventeen years of survival. Of silence. Of learning how this world moves—who gets to live, and who gets stepped on.

I didn’t intend to stay a nobody.

I crouched in the stone crevice near the gorge outside Ravencross, a Tier-2 Shade emergence zone just beyond the city’s reach.

Illegal. Unlicensed. Deadly.

And my best shot.

The Crest Spire Academy’s Trials were three weeks away. Only those with a bonded Shade of Tier-C or above would be admitted. And I didn’t have time to wait around for a weak Lurker to show up and beg for a pact.

“You said it yourself, Jay…” I whispered. “There are more enemies than friends. So I’ll become the kind of enemy this world fears.”

I didn’t expect to find it in the ravine.

The Rift tear shimmered like oil in the air—faint, pulsing. And something stepped through it.

Not stumbled. Stepped.

A Stalker-class Shade. Slender and skeletal, with burning crescent eyes. Not powerful by noble standards, but fast. Smart. Malicious.

I let it see me.

It circled slowly. Curious. Then lunged.

I twisted, avoided the claws, and struck upward with my shortblade—but it anticipated it. A flicker of Shadowcraft bent my movement just enough for it to rake across my side.

I collapsed, bleeding.

The Shade leaned in. It grinned.

“You are not strong enough, Riven Noax,” it rasped. “But your soul tastes like something older. Something broken.”

“Then chew carefully,” I spat through the pain.

My hand shot out—grabbed the amulet I’d laced with soulsteel shavings—and I crushed it in the palm.

The explosion wasn’t magical. It was shrapnel. Earth. Flame. The Shade reeled back, distracted.

That was all I needed.

I leapt forward—blade reversed—drove the edge into its throat.

The Shade screamed.

But it wasn’t just dying. It was… yielding.

“I see your pain,” it whispered as black mist coiled from its dissolving form. “And I know your name. The real one.”

And just like that, it was gone. The Rift closed.

But in its place… hovered a single mark. Floating in the air. A jagged glyph of shadow. Its name. And mine.

I didn’t have to speak. The contract formed itself.

Not ritual. Not domination. Recognition.

The mark seared into my chest like a brand of frost and fire.

My breath caught—and I felt it. The Shade wasn’t dead. It was inside me now. Watching.

✦ [System Message — Shade Bonded: “Aethros, Whisper of the Hollow”]

Tier: C → evolving Form: Shadow-strike Familiar Bond Type: Symbiotic Recognition Emotional Signature: “Grief masked as resolve”

I collapsed against the gorge wall, shaking. The glyph faded from my skin.

“One step closer,” I whispered. “To Crest Spire. To power. To revenge.”

Later that night, I stood at the gates of the Royal Academy—Crest Spire.

Guards didn’t even look at me twice. The moment they saw the flicker of a living Shade behind my eyes, they stepped aside.

Inside, the Spire towered like a blade cutting the moon.

“Seventeen years,” I said. “Let’s begin.”