The fog lay heavy on Grimwald that morning, curling like damp cloth through every alley, chimney, and rooftop spire. Elias stood at the narrow window of his tenement chamber, Codex spread across the desk behind him, its pages glowing faintly with restless symbols.
His shadows lingered nearby—Shade at his feet like a loyal dog, Crimson hovering in sharp lines across the ceiling beams, and Whisperfang, the skeletal serpent, chained coils draped across the floorboards. Together they formed an unsettling trinity of presence, their silent weight pressing into the small chamber.
Elias breathed deeply. He had survived the Silent Choir's "measuring." That alone meant he was marked. The Choir never tested without reason. They had judged him worthy of attention, maybe even fear. The Ledger of Shadows had already begun etching his name.
But what unsettled him most wasn't the Choir. It was the Codex itself.
The book had shifted during the night. When Elias awoke, new runes had crawled across its vellum like veins of fire, rearranging themselves into unfamiliar phrases.
> Beyond the fog, the sun burns false. Seek the flame of Solnera. The Fourth stirs in embers unquenched.
He had no idea what that meant. Solnera? The eastern empire was known only through traders' gossip, half-truths, and rare Solneran coins that found their way into Grimwald markets.
Still, the Codex never whispered idly. The Fourth Shadow was waiting, and Solnera's name was tied to it.
---
A Visit from a Merchant
By midmorning, Elias descended into the streets. The fog thinned around the Iron Canal, where barges groaned under their loads of coal, ash, and iron ore. Traders argued on the docks, hawking goods to desperate buyers. Elias moved carefully, shadows coiled close to him, disguised as nothing more than natural silhouettes.
At a stall of tarnished brassware, Elias caught the sharp tone of a foreign voice.
"…and I tell you, the tariffs bleed us dry! The Dominion strangles trade like a snake."
The speaker was a thick-bearded man wrapped in desert-colored robes, his accent sharp and clipped. A Solneran merchant. Elias lingered nearby, pretending to inspect a set of brass cups.
Another man—local, lean, and pale—snorted. "Then why come at all, desert-man?"
"Because Grimwald's shadows fetch the highest price," the Solneran snapped. "Your Choir forbids export, but smugglers find ways. Every Codex fragment stolen here is worth tenfold in Luminar."
Elias's heart quickened. Codex fragments? Smuggling?
The merchant leaned closer to his companion, lowering his voice, though Elias strained to hear. "And now rumors say the Choir watches a new binder. Three shadows already, in but a handful of weeks. The Dominion will not ignore that. The Lightbearers despise unmeasured power."
Elias turned sharply, nearly revealing himself. They know of me already? Solnera's Dominion… Lightbearers…
Shade pulsed at his feet, sensing his agitation. Whisperfang's chains rattled softly, hungry for conflict. Elias forced himself to step away, blending into the crowd before the merchant could notice his stare.
---
Whispers in the Codex
That night, Elias returned to the tenement and reopened the Codex. The runes from earlier still glowed faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat. As his fingers brushed the ink, the letters rippled, and new text emerged.
> The Lightbearers are false dawn. They burn shadows to ash and bind flame instead. They will hunt you, Elias, for the Fourth is theirs to claim.
Elias clenched his jaw. The Codex had never before spoken his name. Its awareness unsettled him, but also anchored him. It knows me. It wants me to rise.
"Show me," he whispered. "What is the Fourth?"
The Codex's pages fluttered wildly, then settled on an image inked in living fire: a shadow burning but not consumed, its edges rimmed with molten gold. Chains of smoke spiraled from it, half-shadow, half-flame.
Whisperfang hissed, recoiling from the image. Crimson shadow shivered. Even Shade slithered back slightly, reluctant.
The Fourth would not be a simple ally. It was something born of contradiction: shadow and fire, darkness and radiance entwined.
---
The Silent Choir Returns
Three nights later, they came again. Elias had just returned from training atop the rooftops, sweat-soaked and weary, when three robed figures stepped into the courtyard below his tenement.
The Choir did not knock. They simply appeared, as though pulled from the fog itself. Their porcelain masks gleamed in the lamplight, blank and merciless.
"Elias Duskbinder," one intoned softly. "You have stirred Solnera's gaze."
Elias kept his shadows close but visible, refusing to bow. "What of it?"
"You will be hunted." The second voice, higher, almost melodic. "The Lightbearers scour the continents for those like you. Already, agents arrive in Grimwald, cloaked as merchants, diplomats, scholars. Their Dominion abhors uncontrolled Codex-binders."
"And you?" Elias asked, pulse racing. "Do you plan to leash me too?"
The tallest of the three tilted its head. "The Ledger watches. The Choir does not leash. We measure."
Then, as suddenly as they appeared, they dissolved into fog, leaving only silence in their wake.
Elias stood rigid, shadows bristling around him. Shade hissed low, Crimson flared sharp angles, Whisperfang's chains rattled furiously.
For the first time, Elias felt the scope of his rise. This was no longer about Grimwald. His name had crossed seas.
---
Preparation for the Fourth Binding
Days passed with Elias pouring himself into training. He needed his three shadows to work seamlessly before attempting a fourth.
Shade honed its ability to extend and envelop, a cloak of living defense.
Crimson refined its precision, striking like a scalpel.
Whisperfang remained volatile, but Elias learned to channel betrayal into strength. When given an order involving mistrust—spying, striking an ally-turned-enemy—Whisperfang's power doubled.
One evening, while practicing beneath the iron bridges, Elias noticed his shadows forming patterns unbidden. Shade coiled into circles, Crimson traced angular sigils, Whisperfang's chains linked them all. Together, they etched a burning symbol onto the stone floor.
The Codex whispered eagerly:
> The Fourth calls. Find the flame where fog and fire meet. In Grimwald's heart, seek the Ashen Vault.
Elias's breath caught. The Ashen Vault. An underground crypt rumored to hold forbidden relics smuggled from Solnera itself. Few returned from its depths.
---
Encounter at the Ashen Market
Before he could act, fate moved first.
At the Ashen Market—an underground bazaar hidden beneath the Iron Canal—Elias scouted for information. The air was thick with smoke, oil-lamps casting crooked shadows against stone walls. Traders whispered of relics, powders, and Codex fragments.
Elias kept his hood low. Shade masked his silhouette, Crimson scanned for threats, Whisperfang coiled tightly in warning.
He heard the Solneran voice again—the same merchant from before. This time, he was not alone. Two robed figures flanked him, their garments embroidered with faint golden thread. Their presence radiated subtle heat, as though the air around them shimmered.
Lightbearers.
The merchant argued with a Grimwald smuggler, voice low and strained. "The Vault must open. The Dominion requires the ember-shadow. Do you understand? It belongs to Solnera, not this rat's city."
Elias froze. Ember-shadow? The Fourth…
Whisperfang's chains rattled. Crimson pulsed red. Shade coiled tighter.
The smuggler spat. "Grimwald's Choir won't let you Solneran dogs steal our relics."
The Lightbearers moved with sudden precision. Their hands flared, not with shadow, but with flame shaped like blades. One motion and the smuggler collapsed, body scorched yet eerily intact, shadow burned clean away.
The market erupted into chaos. Traders screamed, scattering into tunnels. Elias retreated into the fogged alcoves, watching with clenched fists.
So this is Solnera's Dominion, he thought. They do not bind shadows. They burn them.
---
Decision at Midnight
Back at the tenement, Elias spread the Codex before him. The runes blazed urgently.
> The Fourth is near. Others seek it. Move, Elias, before the flame devours shadow. The Ashen Vault must open for you, not them.
Elias tightened his fists. He had three shadows, harmonized at last. But to face Lightbearers—enemies who destroyed shadows with radiant fire—he would need more.
He stared into the Codex's burning ink until his reflection warped. Shade rose silently behind him. Crimson etched protective lines across the walls. Whisperfang coiled tightly, chains rattling like an omen.
"I will claim the Fourth," Elias whispered. "Before Solnera's flames reach Grimwald. Before the Choir measures me again. The Codex chose me, and I will not yield."
The city's bells tolled midnight, their echoes swallowed by fog. Somewhere beneath the Iron Canal, the Ashen Vault waited, its ember-shadow stirring.
And in distant Solnera, fires were already burning his name.
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