The Great Hall of Coils breathed shadow.
Dozens of young assassins sat on the cold obsidian floor, their black robes stitched with serpent patterns, a live snake coiled around each of their shoulders or necks. Some serpents flicked tongues. Others lay dormant, conserving venom and heat. All had eyes like shards of night.
Kael and Riven sat near the front, silent and still. Sithar, bone-white and cold-eyed, coiled loosely around Kael's arm like pale smoke. Nekros, as black as night with ember-red eyes, rested across Riven's shoulders, unmoving save for a twitch in its tail.
Above them, beneath the carved fangs of a great stone serpent statue, stood the High Priest of Izzaruun. He wore ceremonial armor of dark scales and bone, and his voice boomed with quiet menace.
"You are the fangs of our god," he began. "You are not soldiers. You are not heroes. You are instruments. Daggers in the dark. We kill not for sport, not for glory, but for survival."
The hall was dead silent, save for the faint hiss of serpents and the crackle of shadowflame torches.
"The world beyond these mountains," the priest continued, raising a hand. A shimmer of venom energy bloomed into the air, forming a map of the continent of Naaros. The illusion was made of venom threads, writhing in serpentine motion.
"Naaros is a corpse bloated with kings. Four great powers rule it: The Imperium of Black Flame in the north, the Courts of Veyr in the west, the Emberlands to the south, and the ruins of Ven-Alari in the east. Each one holds Saints and Grandmasters. Each one hunts for power, gold, relics, and blood."
The young assassins watched with wide, dark eyes.
"And yet," he whispered, "they still come to us. To you. Because there are things in this world that even gods fear to do openly. That is when the Coiled Night strikes."
The venom map shimmered and faded. The priest turned slowly.
"Power," he said. "Power is earned. Not through prayer, not through mercy—through blood."
He raised his hand again. A new illusion coiled in the air, this time a massive serpent shedding its skin in seven stages.
"The Path of Ascension," he said.
1. Mortal (Low, Mid, High)
2. Knight (Low, Mid, High)
3. Master (Low, Mid, High)
4. Grandmaster (Low, Mid, High)
5. Saint (Low, Mid, High)
6. Divine Saint (Low, Mid, High)
7. Godhood (Shrouded in legend)
"Each stage, your soul sheds its skin. Your serpent, your techniques, your resilience, all evolve. Your bonded serpent is not a pet. It is your shadow. It grows as you grow. Some of you will die before your first molt. Most of you, even."
The silence deepened.
He turned to Kael and Riven. "You two. Step forward."
The twins obeyed. Their movement was identical: smooth, cold, precise.
"High Knight rank," the priest said. "Both. The youngest to reach it in three decades. Trained under darkness, blood, and venom."
There was no applause. Only stares—from awe to envy to quiet fear.
The priest turned. "Others have survived. Some, barely. Step forward: Varka, Teshin, Lilith, and Boran."
Four young assassins rose. Varka was tall and quiet with a silver-scaled serpent. Teshin was lean and jittery, his serpent coiled tight around his leg. Lilith had wild, sharp eyes, her serpent a vivid green. Boran, thick and bruised, wore a crooked smile and a black-and-copper adder.
They stood behind the twins.
"You five," the priest said. "The first of your generation to receive contracts."
Whispers. Even among assassins, the first contract was a sacred marker.
"You will each be tested beyond pain. Beyond fear. Not all of you will return. That is the cost."
He raised a scroll sealed in serpent wax. "Kael and Riven, your mission: the Courts of Veyr have requested a death. You are to assassinate Prince Thalen Veyron—the second son of a rival clan."
Riven's black eyes narrowed. Kael said nothing.
"Details will come when the moons align," the priest said. "Until then—meditate, feed your serpents, and study the venom sigils."
He lowered his hand, and all the young assassins bowed.
The ceremony ended in silence.
As the young ones filed out, Varka nodded to Riven. Teshin gave Kael a smirk. Lilith watched them both with unreadable eyes. Boran spat to the side, his snake hissing.
None of them would survive the months to come.
But for now, the Hall of Coils emptied, and the twins walked into shadow, blades waiting, serpents coiled, the world watching.
The blood of the serpent moon was stirring.