The Kaelith mansion stirred with a rare warmth in the following days.
Though the maid still watched Eris with eyes sharp enough to pierce steel, the weight behind them was shifting. Every test she set, every subtle trick woven into his meals or chores, every sidelong question phrased like idle chatter — Eris met with unshaken calm.
Sometimes, he responded with wit. Sometimes, silence.
And sometimes, to her growing unease, with sincerity.
On the fourth evening, as Saphine practiced in the courtyard, the maid approached him with folded arms. "You don't flinch easily," she admitted, her voice low.
"Habit," Eris replied without looking up from the book he was reading.
"Habit doesn't explain patience. Habit doesn't explain… restraint." She hesitated, her gaze flicking to Saphine's laughing figure. "You could have taken offense at my suspicions. Yet you didn't."
Eris finally closed the book, lifting his eyes to meet hers. "If you truly care for her, why would you trust me easily?"
The maid froze.
"You're doing your duty," Eris continued quietly. "So am I. That's all there is."
The silence between them stretched. Then, slowly, the maid's lips curved into the faintest, most reluctant smile.
"…Then I'll be watching with you," she said at last.
Eris inclined his head. "That's enough."
When Saphine turned, waving for Eris to spar with her, the maid stepped back, no longer looking at him as an intruder — but as another set of eyes who stood guard over the same girl she cherished.
Three days later, the Kaelith crest shimmered again, summoning both heir and shadow.
The carriage bore them through the city streets until the academy's great hall loomed overhead — a vaulted chamber of black stone and silver sigils, vast enough to swallow an entire army. Its high windows spilled fractured sunlight onto polished floors that gleamed like obsidian mirrors.
One by one, the heirs and their shadows arrived. Eleven in total.
Aerin Valmont strode in first, his spear strapped across his back, his expression carved with resolve. Meline walked at his side, silent as her twin blades glimmered faintly at her hips.
House Verradine's siblings arrived next, their steps elegant, their shadows trailing like hunters. Whispers followed them as they seated themselves with haughty confidence.
The others came in waves — heirs from houses Saphine had only glimpsed at council gatherings, each carrying their own strange aura, their shadows standing as silent reflections.
When she and Eris entered, conversations dimmed for a breath. The ripple of attention brushed against her skin — curiosity, suspicion, wariness. She straightened, refusing to shrink, even as her heartbeat betrayed her nerves.
They gathered in a wide circle of chairs, eleven heirs and eleven shadows, silence thick as a stormcloud.
And then the air shifted.
The doors opened again — and Valari Ka'tarel entered.
The head of House Ka'tarel, draped in a robe of white threaded with faint gold, their presence burned without sound. Their hair fell like pale silk, eyes steady and impossibly deep — the kind of gaze that could peel flesh from bone without moving a finger.
Even among the heirs, silence fell like a blade.
Valari stopped at the center of the circle, their voice quiet yet carrying across the entire hall.
"You have all passed the first trial," they said. "You have uncovered your Shadows and bound them to your side. But that was only the prelude."
They raised a hand. A sigil unfolded beneath their feet, a spiral of light that twisted into infinity. The air shuddered.
"The second trial," Valari continued, "is not against one another. It is against the world itself."
Gasps flickered through the heirs.
"You will enter a Resonant Hollow."
The sigil flared, casting long shadows across the walls.
Saphine felt her throat tighten. She had heard of them only in whispers — places where echoes themselves warped reality, caves and ruins twisted into living mazes. Unlike the dungeons described in stories, a Resonant Hollow was no simple nest of monsters. It was a wound in the world, a place where forgotten echoes, fractured memories, and bleeding aether merged into landscapes both surreal and lethal.
Valari's gaze swept across the heirs, sharp as a blade.
"There, you will be tested not only in strength, but in how well heir and shadow resonate. The Hollow will prey on your flaws, your secrets, your fears. Survive, and you will emerge tempered. Fail…" Their voice softened, almost solemn. "And the Hollow will keep you."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
Saphine's hands trembled faintly in her lap, but she forced them still. Beside her, Eris adjusted his glasses, utterly calm.
Valari lowered their hand, the sigil dimming to a faint pulse beneath their feet.
"Before we proceed," they said, "you will know one another. Names and houses only. Let your strength speak in the Hollow."
The circle shifted.
Aerin Valmont stood first. His voice rang with confidence. "Aerin of House Valmont, heir to the branch line of Ka'tarel. My shadow — Meline." He sat, the weight of his name rippling across the chamber.
A girl with obsidian hair rose next, bowing with refined grace. "Seloria Verradine, first daughter of House Verradine. My shadow — Cyrinth." Her brother followed, sharp-eyed, "Kael Verradine. Second son. Shadow — Veyne."
A flame-haired boy leaned back casually as he stood. "Torin Draemir, House Draemir. My shadow's name doesn't matter to you. Yet." His grin drew narrowed stares, but he seemed to thrive on it.
The heirs continued, one by one — heirs of houses that bore weight in politics, in war, in secrets. Each name spoken was like a stone thrown into a still pond, ripples colliding, testing, measuring.
When it was her turn, Saphine rose slowly, her voice steady despite the tension in her chest. "Saphine Kaelith. Heir of House Kaelith. My shadow — Eris Vale."
Whispers stirred again. Eris inclined his head with the faintest of smiles, saying nothing.
Valari let the murmurs simmer for a breath before speaking again.
"At dawn, the Hollow opens. Prepare yourselves."
The sigil pulsed once, and the hall dimmed to silence.