The door shut behind him with a sound like a closing vault.
Kael turned instinctively, but the iron slab had vanished into the stone. No hinges. No seam. Just cold wall and sigil-etched bricks pulsing faintly blue, like the heartbeat of something slumbering beneath the surface.
Tenebris recoiled slightly. Not in fear, but respect.
The hall ahead was narrow and wrong. Too long. The angles bent strangely when he wasn't looking directly at them. The glow-lamps didn't burn with flame, but with some soft internal light, like breath inside glass.
A woman waited at the far end.
Not the one who conscripted him—this one was younger, her uniform bearing the same sigil at the collar, but tinged with silver thread that marked rank. Her hair was dark, braided tightly to her skull, and her eyes, when they met his, were unreadable. Not cruel. Not warm. Just... assessing.
She gestured.
Kael approached, silent.
She didn't speak. Just handed him a thin strip of silk.
"Put it on," she said.
Kael frowned. "Blindfold?"
"No. Gag."
He blinked. "You're serious."
Her gaze didn't shift. "You want to survive initiation? Wear it. Or don't. Makes no difference to me."
Tenebris uncoiled slightly, curious. Interested.
Kael took the strip, turned it in his fingers, then tied it roughly around his mouth. It tasted like dust and iron. The moment the knot tightened, the woman opened a door behind her. This one wasn't iron. It was wood, old and dark, carved with layers of sigils so dense the grain was barely visible.
Beyond it lay... nothing.
Just black.
Pure, unnatural dark.
Kael's breath caught. Not because of the dark. He liked the dark. It was where Tenebris lived. Where he felt most alive.
But this wasn't shadow.
This was void.
The woman spoke, voice clipped. "This is the Quiet Room. You'll remain inside until the room deems you ready. Do not speak. Do not lie. Do not think about anything you're afraid of."
Kael raised an eyebrow.
She ignored it. "Good luck."
And she shut the door behind him.
The silence wasn't silence.
It was too much silence.
Kael stood in pitch, every breath loud in his skull. Even Tenebris was quiet now—watching, not speaking. Not feeling. That was new. That was wrong.
The dark here was thick. He reached out, and his hand disappeared two inches past his face.
No sensation. No heat. No air.
Only the rising sound of his own heartbeat. And the itch of old memories behind his eyes.
Don't think about what you're afraid of.
Easier said than done.
The dark shifted.
Something whispered.
Not words.
Emotion.
Guilt.
Then came the faces.
Not real. Not quite. Just flashes. Memory-burns: his stablemaster's bloodshot eyes when Kael didn't bow fast enough. The broken wrist from a noble's boot, the bruises from the fighting pit beneath the kitchens. The first time he saw Tenebris in a cracked mirror—his own shadow grinning when he wasn't.
His mouth twitched. He tried to laugh—but the gag bit down.
The whisper came again, this time clearer. Not outside him. From him.
You hide in me. But you never look.
Kael swallowed. His hands clenched. "So look," he muttered behind the gag. "Let's see what you find."
That's when the shadow answered.
Not with speech. With movement.
Something stepped out of him. Out of his feet, his ribs, his spine. Tenebris—separate now—its body tall and thin and rippling, its edges fraying into smoke. No eyes. No face. But somehow still looking.
It tilted its head.
Kael stood still.
And Tenebris moved forward—into the void—and Kael followed.
There was no time in the Quiet Room. Just moments. Just truths.
Tenebris showed him pieces of himself—memories Kael didn't remember choosing. The sound of his mother's screams. The cold of stone floors in the servant quarters. A whisper from his father's mouth, one he didn't think he'd imagined: "You don't exist."
Kael's knees buckled, but he didn't fall.
The shadow circled back and laid a hand—no, not a hand, something colder—against his chest.
And in that touch: acceptance. Hunger. A question.
How much will you give to never feel weak again?
Kael didn't answer. He didn't need to.
He bit down on the gag and nodded once.
And the Quiet Room opened.
When the door creaked, the light felt like a slap. Kael stumbled forward, sweat-soaked, blinking, gag loose around his neck.
The dark-haired woman stood where he left her.
"You passed," she said without inflection.
"I wasn't aware I could fail."
"Everyone fails. The point is surviving it."
Kael didn't answer.
She handed him a satchel. "Your quarters. Sixth cell down. You'll be summoned tomorrow."
As he turned, she added, "You'll meet the others soon. Try not to antagonize everyone."
He gave her a tight-lipped smile. "No promises."
The cell was stone, spare, and windowless, lit only by a small crystal embedded in the ceiling. Kael sat on the cot, running a hand through damp hair, Tenebris still coiled in his limbs like a second skin.
He expected rest.
Instead, the door opened again.
A girl entered.
No—not a girl. A young woman, older than him by a year maybe, but she carried herself like she'd already been here a lifetime. Her Whisperer uniform was precise, tailored. Her eyes—clear gray, sharp—flicked across him once.
Disinterest. Disgust? No. Measurement.
She dropped a file onto the table without a word, then turned to leave.
"Friendlier than most," Kael said dryly.
She paused.
Spoke without turning. "You're Tenebris's bond. You shouldn't be here yet."
"Lucky me."
She looked back then. Just for a second. And in that glance: recognition. Curiosity. Worry.
Kael caught it, and raised an eyebrow.
"What's your name?" he asked.
She hesitated.
"Eline."
And then she was gone.
Kael sat back on the cot, staring at the closed door.
Tenebris stirred.
She knew us.
He nodded.
He wasn't sure why, but somehow… that was the most terrifying thing of all.