Rain slicked the streets of Insomnia, pooling in the dips between cobblestones until lanternlight shimmered across them in broken patterns. The city never truly slept—soldiers patrolled, vendors closed up stalls, distant laughter bled from taverns—but under the drizzle everything felt muted, as though the world had been wrapped in a wet shroud.
Sirius Blake walked at his father's side, the hood of his cloak drawn low to hide his white hair. Dominic moved with calm purpose, a wrapped parcel tucked under one arm, his free hand never far from the hilt of his blade. Crownsguard or not, he walked with the wary alertness of a man who had seen too much to ever stride carelessly.
For Sirius, every trip through the rain-soaked city was more than an errand. It was a chance to observe, to learn. He watched how soldiers adjusted their footing on slick stone, how merchants bartered even as they packed up wares, how beggars melted into shadows when patrols passed. Insomnia wasn't just gleaming towers and the Citadel. It was alleys and whispers, life and rumor.
As they neared the barracks, Dominic slowed. An older Crownsguard stepped out from beneath a rune-lit awning, pale light flickering across his armor, and the two clasped arms in greeting. Sirius lingered nearby, pretending interest in a broken lantern sputtering with magitek sparks. Rain drummed steadily on the rooftops. The men's voices rumbled low, but his sharp ears caught fragments.
"…the Guard moving tonight?"
"Always moving. Silent as the grave."
"Protect Lucis, unseen. That's their creed, isn't it?"
Sirius' head snapped up. His chest thudded. The Guard?
The men went on, their words hushed, but to Sirius each syllable felt like iron pressed into his mind.
"Not the Crownsguard. Not the Kingsglaive. Something else."
"Shadow Guard, they call 'em. Only the King and Cor know for sure."
"Five men, maybe less. Ghosts. Daemons themselves couldn't sniff them out."
The rain swallowed the rest, but Sirius didn't need more. The words carved into him like a blade. Shadow Guard. Protect Lucis unseen. Bleed in silence.
---
That night, back at home, the house was still. Dominic had gone to bed, and Lyla's soft cough carried faintly from her room. Sirius hunched over his desk, the lamplight casting his shadow long across the wall. His notebook lay open, the pencil scratching furiously.
Notes – Shadow Guard (Rumor)
Not Crownsguard. Not Kingsglaive.
Secret. Silent. Only King + Cor know.
Creed: Protect Lucis unseen. Bleed in silence.
Five members? Ghosts.
He underlined the last line twice, the graphite nearly tearing through the paper.
This wasn't about glory, or songs sung in taverns, or names etched into history. This was about silence. Sacrifice. The unseen shield that kept a kingdom safe.
This is where I belong, Sirius thought, his chest burning. Not in the light. In the shadows.
And faintly, he remembered Lyla's lullaby from weeks before—words of light that never faded, and "guardians unseen" watching in silence. Only now did he begin to understand.
---
The next morning, Cor drilled him harder than usual. Rain still dampened the yard's soil, but that did not stay the Immortal's strikes.
"Uncle," Sirius gasped between parries, wooden sword trembling, "what do you know about… shadows?"
Cor's blade came down harder, almost jarring his weapon from his hands. His eyes narrowed. "Shadows?"
"Like… a guard in the dark. Protecting unseen."
The next blow came faster than expected. Sirius caught it barely, arms shuddering. Cor leaned close, his gaze sharp enough to pierce through bone. "Where did you hear that?"
Sirius swallowed. "Just… whispers. In the street."
For a moment Cor's face was stone. His eyes flicked once toward the alley beyond the wall, as though ensuring they were alone. Then he struck again, harder still, driving Sirius into the mud. "Forget the whispers. Focus on your stance."
But Sirius had seen it—the faintest flicker in his uncle's eyes. Recognition. Paranoia. The whispers were true.
---
Later that week, Sirius accompanied Dominic on another errand. The rain had passed, leaving the air crisp and sharp. Soldiers gathered near taverns, their laughter spilling into the night, lanterns glowing faintly with magitek fire. Sirius lingered close to one group while his father haggled with a merchant.
"…shadow boys again," one muttered, voice lowered.
"They say one of 'em slipped into a Magitek camp and cut every throat without waking a soul."
"Rubbish."
"Swear on the Crystal, I heard it. Left the bodies lined up neat, like ghosts had judged them."
Sirius shivered. His grip on the shopping bag tightened. Ghosts. Silent killers. Protectors unseen.
Dominic called him, and Sirius hurried back—but the words clung to him like wet clothes.
---
That night he lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. He thought of his mother's frailty, his father's unyielding watch, his uncle's relentless drills. He thought of Noctis—still small, still slouched under burdens he did not yet understand.
And he thought of himself. Not a prince. Not yet a soldier. Just a boy. But a boy who could choose.
He reached under his pillow, pulled free his notebook, and scrawled a vow across the page, his hand trembling.
Vow
I don't need songs.
I don't need light.
I don't need to be seen.
I will be shadow.
I will bleed in silence.
I will protect Lucis, unseen.
---
The next day, Cor's drills broke him again. Blows hammered down, stance after stance collapsed, sweat and mud smeared his face. Yet each time he fell, he rose. Each time, the whispers burned hotter. Protect Lucis unseen. Bleed in silence.
At last, when he collapsed and could no longer rise, Cor crouched beside him. "Why do you keep getting back up?"
Sirius panted, chest heaving, red eyes blazing through exhaustion. "Because… I want to protect. Even if no one ever knows my name."
Cor's gaze lingered on him, unreadable. Then, for the briefest moment, something softened. "Then perhaps you'll survive me after all."
---
That night, Sirius slid the notebook back beneath his pillow. He closed his eyes, clutching the blanket, his vow etched into his chest as deeply as it was scratched into paper.
He was still small. Still weak. Still just a boy. But now he had direction. Not just to endure. Not just to grow.
To vanish into the shadows, unseen and unyielding.
And in that vow, a spark flared—the first whisper of the Shadow Fang he would one day become.