Forging Shadows
Osmon had awoken again. The swamp had become chaotic and filled with the hated shadelings and the idiot vampires that created them. He moved toward one group of them and paused as he felt the mind of a Silver Moon Alpha extended to them.
His mind and the mind of his petite and powerful Psi. It had been many long years since Osmon had seen such a powerhouse, she even rivaled the strength of many of the ancient Psi werewolves he had once known.
He nodded to himself and allowed himself to sink deeper into the swamps. If the little one was there she would probably change the scent of those vial things. He could rest and let the young play their games. He would rest until called, and if called he would fight beside that petite one.
They would remake minds together like he had done when he was young.
The lab was still humming with the residue of Tiffany's spellwork. Rows of etched runes glowed faintly across the walls, anchoring the warded space in an eerie green-blue light. Stien and Cros stood silently near the center, their incorporeal forms wavering like smoke caught in a draft. Around them, three new figures flickered — raw recruits, their edges fraying in and out of the physical world.
Tiffany lifted her chin, eyes narrowing with satisfaction. "They're weak now, but that will change. We'll make them more than hungry shades. They'll be soldiers. Yours, Marco — and mine."
Ariel moved to the three. 'Mistress. They seem too weak. They do not even have much independent thought. They are just pure instinct.'
Tiffany nodded. 'They will be more. They will rise above Stien and Cros. I can see their mental potential, but you are right, now they are only good for experimentation.'
Ariel nodded, full trust and respect in all that Tiffany said, and stepped between Stien and Cros to aid in the ritual.
Marco stood with his arms crossed, silent, though the intensity in his gaze betrayed his interest. The faint silver gleam in his irises fixed on the newcomers. He could feel their presence like cold mist brushing against his thoughts.
"Rules first," Tiffany said, stepping into the circle. Her mental abilities flared in controlled waves, forcing the Shadelings' attention. "You feed only by intention, never by accident. Proximity is not permission. You choose, and you obey."
The recruits wavered in and out of physicality in reply, their minds reached out to her and answered in affirmative. The foreigness of it an odd friend and comfort to her mind. She accepted and embraced the sharp pressuer, it was like an old friend and Tiffany didn't flinch.
"Good," she said. "Second: your loyalties are to me. You will not answer to vampire lords, you will only ovey my directives and those of your new Alpha. I will give you direction. Disobey…" She let her thought ripple like broken glass through the chamber. "…and you will not survive the correction."
Stien's hollow face twitched into something resembling approval. Cros hunched forward, tendrils of shadow peeling as he bowed to her.
Marco finally spoke. "And in return, what do they gain?" His tone was flat, testing.
"They gain form," Tiffany replied. She stretched out her hands, threads of dark psi wrapping around the recruits. "They gain strength. They become more than whispers in the dark. Their mental capacities will grow. They will not be as strong or diverse as Ariel but they will be relatively close to her." She looked to Ariel and nodded.
The shadeling nodded and stepped forward. She moved to one of thr benches that crowded the lab. Suddenly a stong pulse of mental energy quickly moved forward, slammed into the desk, knocked everything from it, and everything quickly froze then, very deliberately returned to their original positions.
Marco raised an eyebrow and nodded.
Ariel returned to her position between Stien and Cros and the transformation began. The Shadelings' smoky outlines thickened, coagulating into gaunt, humanoid shapes. Fingers lengthened, curling into desiccated claws. Faint remnants of clothing clung to their bodies as though burned into their essence. Where once their faces were only blurs, now hollow sockets and sharp jawlines emerged, half-formed but unmistakably predatory.
The air grew heavier, colder. Marco felt his skin prickle as the sensation of them solidifying pressed into his mind. They reeked of wrongness, not as a smell but as a vibration — like a note just out of tune, scraping against the soul.
One recruit hissed aloud, voice brittle as crumpled parchment. The sound sent a chill crawling down Marco's spine. Tiffany only smiled.
"Better," she murmured. "Already more useful."
---
They did not stop with shaping. Tiffany set them immediately to task. In one corner of the lab, illusionary forms flickered into existence — vampires woven from her mental abilities, snarling and lunging.
"Strike as I command," she ordered.
The Shadelings moved in eerie coordination, fading in and out as they circled the illusions. One pressed its hand against the forehead of one of them. Instantly, the construct withered, its body collapsing as though its will had been torn away. The others followed, feeding deliberately, draining until the illusions fell silent and lifeless.
Marco watched closely. These were not mindless spirits anymore — they moved with strategy, learning quickly, refining their predation.
Stien rasped approval. "They are sharper now… not only hunger."
"Good," Tiffany said. "But control is everything. Again."
---
Hours passed in drills — stealth, ambush, selective feeding. Stien and Cros corrected errors with guttural instructions, and the recruits adapted with unsettling speed. By the third cycle, they no longer lunged blindly but stalked, calculated, and struck in silence.
Marco's eyes narrowed. "They think faster now. They weren't like this when you brought Stien and Cros in."
Tiffany's expression held a flicker of pride. "This is what I meant, they have greater potential." she said simply. "The more I mold them, the more their minds sharpen. They'll be more than shadows. They'll be spies, assassins, the unseen teeth of Silver Moon."
Marco did not respond, though Moas whispered faintly in the back of his skull: 'Every edge cuts both ways. Do you trust them not to cut you?'
---
The final test came at the swamp border, under the veil of night. Ariel led the new unit through the mire, the air thick with the stench of rot. The Shadelings moved like wraiths, slipping between tree shadows. When they encountered a vampire patrol, Ariel signaled restraint.
The recruits obeyed. Instead of killing, they pressed their desiccated hands over the vampires' brows, draining fragments of thought, memory, and emotion, at just the right pace. The victims staggered, confused and weakened, but not destroyed.
Marco stepped closer, intrigued. "Selective and controlled feeding," he murmured. "Not wasteful. Efficient."
Tiffany smirked. "We're building something sustainable."
---
But the night did not end cleanly. As the recruits regrouped, one froze, its hollow sockets tilting toward the far trees. A faint psychic trace pulsed there — alien, cold, like a whisper not its own.
Tiffany stiffened. "Another Shadeling," she whispered, her head tilting in confusion. 'But it is alone and it does not seem to be tethered to any vampire."
She opened her eyes. 'And it is strong, not mentally, but in intent.'
The recruits stirred restlessly, eager. Marco's eyes narrowed, silver gleam sharp.
"Then we've found our next piece," he said. "Either it joins us… or it falls."
The recruits' eyes flared faintly, and the swamp seemed to darken with anticipation.