The Command of Ash and Oath
The torches hissed faintly as the air shifted.
Leon's voice had already silenced the room, but now it gripped it — heavy, magnetic, unyielding. The word "Come forward" hung in the still air like an echo that refused to fade.
Captain Black stepped out from the line. His boots struck the marble floor with the slow certainty of a man used to battle, not ceremony. Shadows rippled across his face — hard, chiseled features framed by short, dark hair streaked faintly with gray at the temples.
He knelt, one fist to his chest, eyes lowered.
"My lord."
Leon didn't move at first. He studied him in silence — the commander who had followed him through fire and ruin, who'd fought beside him when Nagareth burned and the heavens turned red.
Then Leon stepped closer, each footfall soft but deliberate, the kind that made sound bend around him. The light caught his face — gold and shadow crossing his sharp features, eyes like molten steel.
