Trial by Shadow
Some leaders rise through strength.
Others, through blood.
But the rarest kind lead through silence—
Because power listens to those who don't speak unless they must.
---
They waited for him in the courtyard before dawn—six figures draped in old Veinhold colors, armor mismatched from too many campaigns, weapons scarred, faces unreadable.
Lyle tightened the cloak over his shoulders, the collar brushing the edge of the mask still etched faintly into his skin. His Codex shimmered faintly, partially stabilized from the vial he'd taken the night before. But his stomach hadn't settled.
"Which one's the commander?" one of them muttered.
"That kid?" another said. "Looks like he hasn't even tasted blood yet."
Lyle stopped in front of them.
"I'm Lyle Greenbottle," he said evenly. "Assigned by Quinn. You don't need to like it. You don't need to like me. But if we don't come back alive, it won't matter who was in charge."
None of them spoke.
Then a woman stepped forward—shorter than Lyle by a head, with dark scars across both arms and a blade shaped like a crescent moon strapped to her back.
"I'm Kree," she said. "Old enough to have died twice. Still here."
Lyle nodded. "Anyone else want to test me before we move?"
No one did.
Quinn stood silently at the edge of the courtyard with Muka at his side, arms crossed.
"He's already better than I expected," Muka muttered.
Quinn gave a faint grunt. "He's already better than most. But the test isn't in the orders. It's in what follows."
---
Blackroot Cavern wasn't far—three hours by stride through the lower Spine trails—but the path took them deeper into terrain where Codex readings warped, and where even the shadows felt alive.
The Bone Claw pulsed in Lyle's chest the moment they crossed into the canyon mouth. He didn't speak it aloud, but it had been getting stronger since he drank the vial. More focused. Like it, too, had remembered something.
> "This is no prison," it said. "This was a bargain made and broken."
> "Explain."
> "Later."
The squad moved in silence through the mouth of the cave, their torches burning low with enchanted oils. Veins of silver lined the cavern walls, etched with long-dead runes that even the Codex refused to interpret.
> [Local Runic Script: Error – Contradictory Grammar Structure]
[Warning: Memory Field Distortion Detected – Maintain Emotional Anchor]
By the time they reached the central chamber, they'd passed four abandoned ritual circles and the husks of what looked like armored beasts made from stone and bone.
Kree knelt by one of the remains. "These were sentinels. Left here to hold something in."
"Or keep something out," Lyle replied.
In the center of the chamber stood a cage—tall, circular, ribbed like it had grown from the floor itself. At its core was a cracked pedestal surrounded by four vertical obelisks. The whole thing pulsed with faint light, like a heartbeat trapped beneath stone.
"This is it," Lyle said. "The artifact Quinn sent us for."
"What's it do?" someone behind him asked.
He stepped forward carefully, letting the Bone Claw feel it before he touched it.
> "It's a seal," it said. "Or what's left of one."
> "Of what?"
> "A king."
> "Another one?"
> "Not of shadow. Of void."
As soon as Lyle placed his hand on the cracked pedestal, the room shifted.
The air bent.
Reality breathed inward.
And then everything exploded outward.
The seal shattered.
---
The chamber plunged into chaos.
Darkness erupted from the broken seal, slamming the squad back as ghostly shapes poured through the air—echoes of creatures not fully born, howling without mouths, burning without flame.
One of the warriors was pulled into the void before he could scream. Gone.
Lyle reached for his Codex—too slow.
He dropped to one knee, focusing, trying to find the pulse in the storm of distortion.
"Regroup!" he shouted, voice already strained. "Anchor your minds! Don't let it in!"
Kree sliced through a wraith with her crescent blade, the edges of her armor glowing with warding runes.
Lyle's eyes flicked to the Bone Claw. "Tell me what to do."
> "You cannot fight it with will."
> "Then what?"
> "Claim it."
> "I don't know how!"
> "You do. You were chosen twice—by shadow, and by memory. Now take the third."
The chamber began folding inward—walls warping, the obelisks cracking.
Lyle stood in the eye of the storm, hands raised, Codex spinning glyphs mid-air as the Bone Claw wrapped around his arms in coils of mist.
He spoke words he didn't remember learning.
Runes formed in the air—twisting, searing.
A sphere of blood-shadow formed in front of him, anchored by something deeper than knowledge.
His voice rang out—not as a command.
As a verdict.
"Back to the veil," he said.
The chamber obeyed.
The void shrieked once.
Then collapsed.
And silence fell.
---
Only four remained.
Kree, wounded but alive, stepped forward, chest heaving.
"What the hell are you?"
Lyle looked at her, eyes still faintly glowing from the glyph resonance.
"A commander," he said.
She stared at him a moment longer.
Then dropped to one knee.
Not in submission.
In recognition.
---
Back in Veinhold, Quinn stood at the edge of the tower balcony.
He felt the pull as the veil sealed again.
And smiled.