The morning after defying the Silent Choir, Elias woke to find his hands shaking.
It wasn't fear—not exactly. His body was simply processing what his mind had already accepted: he had crossed a line that most shadow-binders never survived crossing. The Choir didn't forgive defiance. The Crimson Guild didn't forget refusals. And somewhere across the sea, Solnera's Flamebearers were likely already boarding ships bound for Grimwald.
He sat on the edge of his cot, watching his shadows. They had settled into the corners of his room during the night, each claiming territory as naturally as cats finding sunbeams. Shade pooled beneath the window, its form gently undulating. Crimson had tucked itself along the ceiling beams, geometric and precise even at rest. Whisperfang's chains lay coiled by the door—a warning to anyone who might enter uninvited. Ember flickered near the cold fireplace, its molten light casting dancing patterns across the walls.
And beneath them all, he could feel it: the Fifth Shadow's resonance, like a second heartbeat just slightly out of sync with his own.
The Codex lay open on his table, though he hadn't touched it since returning. New words had appeared on the page overnight:
A name is both armor and target. You are Voidsinger now. The Ledger has spoken. But names carry weight, and weight demands strength to bear.
"Philosophical this morning, aren't we?" Elias muttered.
The book's pages rustled though no wind stirred.
He stood, wincing at the stiffness in his shoulders. The confrontation at the Iron Chapel had taken more out of him than he'd realized. Commanding five shadows in perfect harmony wasn't just mentally exhausting—it pulled at something deeper, some core part of himself that he was only beginning to understand.
A knock at the door made all five shadows snap to attention. Shade flowed upward defensively. Crimson descended from the ceiling. Whisperfang's chains rattled a warning. Ember brightened dangerously.
"Easy," Elias said quietly. "Let's see who's foolish enough to visit."
An Unexpected Visitor
He opened the door to find a girl—no more than sixteen—standing in the hallway. She wore the gray smock of a factory worker, her hands stained with ink and her dark hair pulled back in a practical braid. What caught Elias's attention were her eyes: one brown, one pale blue. Heterochromia, rare in Grimwald.
She didn't flinch when Shade's tendrils curled around the doorframe behind him.
"Elias Veyrin?" Her voice was steady, though he could see her pulse jumping in her throat.
"Depends on who's asking."
"My name is Mira Tesslen. I work at the Broken Wheel printing house. I need your help." She paused, then added with surprising defiance: "And before you refuse, you should know that I'm the one who's been keeping track of Solnera's movements in the Industrial Quarter. The information you want? I have it."
Elias studied her for a long moment. Shade had already circled her once, finding no weapons, no hidden wards. Crimson scanned her for magical signatures and found none. She was exactly what she appeared to be: a frightened girl with valuable information and nowhere else to turn.
"Come in," he said finally. "But if this is a trap—"
"Then your shadows will kill me before I take three steps. I know." She entered carefully, her eyes tracking each shadow as it retreated to give her space. "I'm not stupid enough to try deceiving a Voidsinger."
"You heard about that already?"
"Everyone's heard. The Ledger moves faster than gossip in this city." She accepted the chair he gestured to, sitting with the rigid posture of someone trying not to show fear. "The Choir's announcement went out at dawn. Every faction house received notice. The marketplace won't stop talking about it."
Elias poured two cups of weak tea from the pot on his stove. "Tell me about Solnera's movements."
Intelligence
Mira pulled a folded paper from her smock—a map of Grimwald's Industrial Quarter, covered in tiny notations in cramped handwriting.
"I notice things," she said simply. "Part of my job is tracking inventory shipments for the printing house. Three months ago, I started noticing discrepancies. Crates marked as paper stock that were too heavy. Merchant ships from Solnera docking more frequently than trade agreements allowed. Workers with Solneran accents taking jobs in factories they were overqualified for."
She pointed to marks on the map. "These locations all receive regular deliveries from the same shipping company—Radiant Sun Imports. They're a front. I followed one of their carts into the warehouse district and saw them unloading weapon crates marked with Dominion military seals."
Elias leaned forward. "How many weapons?"
"Enough to arm a small battalion. And that's just one warehouse." Her mismatched eyes met his. "They're preparing for something, Mr. Veyrin. Something big. And after last night, after what you did at the Iron Chapel... I think you might be what they're preparing for."
The Codex pulsed against Elias's chest. Ember flickered nervously.
"Why bring this to me?" he asked. "Why not the city guard, or one of the guilds?"
Mira's laugh was bitter. "The city guard takes bribes from anyone with coin. Half the guilds are already compromised—Solneran gold flows freely in Grimwald, and loyalty is cheap. I came to you because you're the only one who openly defied them. You're the only one who might actually care."
"You don't know me well enough to know what I care about."
"No," she admitted. "But I know desperation when I see it. And I'm desperate enough to bet on a shadow-binder rather than watching my city get swallowed by foreign fire."
There was something refreshing about her bluntness. No political maneuvering, no hidden agendas—just simple, straightforward desperation. Elias found himself almost liking her.
"What do you want in return for this information?"
"Protection. My supervisor's been asking questions about why I work late so often. I think he suspects I'm snooping. If Solnera realizes I know about their weapons..." She didn't need to finish the thought.
Elias considered. Taking her under his protection would complicate things—it meant another vulnerability, another responsibility. But the information she offered was invaluable. Knowing where Solnera stored their weapons, tracking their agents' movements...
The Codex whispered: Every sovereign needs eyes and ears beyond their own shadows.
"Alright," he said. "You bring me information about Solnera's operations. In return, I make sure nobody touches you. But understand this: being associated with me makes you a target for every faction that wants me controlled or dead."
"I'm already a target," Mira said quietly. "At least this way, I have a chance."
The Marketplace
Later that morning, Elias ventured into the Canal District marketplace with Mira at his side. He kept his shadows visible but restrained—a deliberate display of control. Shade flowed along the ground beside him. Crimson hovered at shoulder height. Whisperfang's chains dragged softly against cobblestones. Ember flickered at his other side, its molten light catching in puddles and windows.
The effect was immediate. Conversations stopped mid-sentence. Cart vendors forgot to haggle. Even the city watch gave them a wide berth.
"They're terrified of you," Mira murmured.
"Fear is useful," Elias replied. "But it's not sustainable. Eventually, frightened people either flee or attack. I need them to see something else."
"What?"
"Someone worth following rather than fighting."
It was easier said than done. Elias had spent his entire life invisible, just another nameless face in Grimwald's crowds. Now every eye tracked him, and he could feel the weight of their attention like a physical thing.
They passed the Broken Anvil tavern where this had all begun—where he'd overheard two men whispering about the Codex. It felt like years ago rather than weeks.
A merchant stepped into their path—an older man with a weathered face and calculating eyes.
"Voidsinger," he said, the title awkward in his mouth. "I represent the Copper Street Merchants' Collective. We'd like to speak with you about... mutual interests."
"Such as?"
"Protection. Solneran merchants have been undercutting our prices, driving local businesses toward bankruptcy. The guilds won't intervene—too much Solneran gold in their coffers. But a man with your... capabilities... could make certain shipments disappear. For a percentage, of course."
Elias studied him. It was a test, obviously. Accept, and he became a glorified thug for hire. Refuse, and he made an enemy of the merchants.
"I'm not interested in becoming anyone's enforcer," he said carefully. "But I am interested in limiting Solnera's economic influence in Grimwald. Send me details about their shipping schedules and routes. If I choose to interfere with their operations, any benefits to your collective will be incidental."
The merchant's eyes narrowed, trying to parse whether he'd been refused or accepted. "I... see. We'll be in touch, Voidsinger."
As he walked away, Mira whispered: "That was clever. You didn't commit to anything, but you left the door open."
"Politics," Elias said with distaste. "I'm learning as I go."
An Old Face
They were near the canal bridge when a familiar voice called out:
"Elias!"
He turned to see Tam—a fellow dockworker from his old life, before the Codex. The man looked older than Elias remembered, his face lined with exhaustion and his hands scarred from rope work.
"Tam." Elias felt an unexpected rush of emotion. "I didn't expect—"
"Nobody's seen you in weeks." Tam's eyes flicked nervously to the shadows surrounding Elias. "There were rumors, but I didn't believe... Are you really...?"
"A shadow-binder? Yes."
Tam swallowed hard. "The foreman said you were dead. Or worse. We didn't know if..." He trailed off, then seemed to gather courage. "Listen, I don't understand what's happened to you, but you're still you, right? Still the kid who shared his lunch when I forgot mine? Still the one who pulled young Ren out of the canal when he fell drunk?"
Elias wanted to say yes. Wanted to believe he was still that person. But the weight of five shadows, the power thrumming through his veins, the Codex's constant whispers—all of it felt like a chasm between who he'd been and who he was becoming.
"I don't know," he admitted quietly.
Tam nodded slowly, as if that answer told him everything he needed to know. "Well. If you ever need someone who remembers Elias the dockhand instead of Elias the Voidsinger... I'm still at the same warehouse. Most days, anyway."
He walked away before Elias could respond.
Mira watched him go, then said softly: "That's what scares you, isn't it? Not the Choir or Solnera or the guilds. It's forgetting who you were."
Elias didn't answer. He didn't need to.
Evening Meditation
Back at his tenement, as twilight painted the fog purple and gold, Elias sat with the Codex open before him. His shadows had arranged themselves around the room—not guarding now, but simply being present.
He studied each one, really looked at them for the first time since the Fifth's integration.
Shade had grown more substantial, its edges sharper and more defined. It watched him with what might have been concern in the way its tendrils curled gently near his feet.
Crimson had developed new patterns—geometric fractals that shifted and reformed constantly. It was thinking, calculating, always three steps ahead.
Whisperfang remained the most volatile, its chains restless even at rest. But there was loyalty there too, buried beneath the betrayal that had birthed it.
Ember... Ember had changed the most. The molten shadow flickered with colors now—orange and gold and hints of silver where the Fifth's resonance touched it. It was becoming something new, something unprecedented.
And beneath them all, he felt the Fifth—not yet fully manifested, but growing stronger each day. Patient. Watching. Waiting.
"What are you?" he asked the shadows quietly.
The Codex answered: Extensions of your will. Reflections of your soul. Partners in a dance that will reshape this city.
"And what am I becoming?"
That, the Codex whispered, you must discover for yourself.
Night Visitor
Long after midnight, Elias woke to find Corvan sitting at his table, calm as if he'd been invited.
"Your wards are improving," the pale-eyed man said conversationally. "It took me almost fifteen minutes to bypass them."
All five shadows had surrounded Corvan in defensive positions, but the man seemed unconcerned.
"What do you want?" Elias asked, not bothering to reach for a weapon. If Corvan meant harm, he'd already be dead.
"To tell you that the Crimson Guild is reconsidering their approach. Your defiance intrigued them. They're drafting a new offer—one with fewer strings attached."
"And the Choir?"
"Silent. Watching. You've earned their respect, which is rarer than their enmity. But respect from the Choir is a double-edged blade."
"And Solnera?"
Corvan's expression darkened. "A Flamebearer named Caius arrived yesterday. He's already established a base in the Embassy Quarter. He's brought twelve trained operatives and has been recruiting local muscle. He's not here for reconnaissance, Elias. He's here to eliminate threats to the Dominion's expansion."
"Meaning me."
"Among others. But yes, you're high on his list." Corvan stood, moving toward the window. "You've done well, building power quickly. But power without strategy is just a brighter target. You need to think beyond the next shadow, the next binding. You need to think about what comes after."
"After what?"
"After you've collected all one hundred shadows. After you've become whatever the Codex is shaping you into. What then, Elias? What will you do with that power?"
The question hung in the air long after Corvan had vanished into the fog.