Kael Draven
Three days passed in the mine before I saw her.
Three days of swinging a pick, sipping thin gruel, and sleeping on cold stone. Three days of listening to whispers, learning the shape of this new world I'd woken into. Three days of feeling my way gingerly about the shadows, testing the limits of this weak body.
I'd learned a few things. The mine was called Ashveil, named after the province we were in. We extracted shadowstone for the Temple, an organization I'd never heard of that apparently ruled with religious authority backed by something called Light Arts. Shadow magic was forbidden, punishable by public burning. Anyone caught practicing it was labeled a cultist and executed in ceremonies called Cleansings.
The irony wasn't lost on me. I'd spent my life mastering shadows, and now the very thing that made me powerful would get me killed if anyone found out.
I'd also learned that the overseer, Viktor, was cruel but predictable. He had his favorites amongst the guards, his patterns of patrol, his blind spots. I cataloged all of it, storing it away like weapons I might need later.
But that morning, everything changed.
I was working my section of the wall when I heard shouting from the entrance tunnel. The sound of picks stopped as everyone turned to look. Viktor appeared, dragging someone behind him. Even from a distance, I could see she was fighting him every step of the way.
"Got ourselves a fresh one," Viktor called out, his voice echoing through the cavern. "Caught her trying to steal shadowstone from the sorting house. Can you believe that? Stupid girl thought she could just walk in and take what belongs to the Temple."
He threw her forward. She stumbled but caught herself before falling, then immediately spun to face him. It wasn't until that moment that I got a good look at her.
She was young, maybe eighteen. Her hair was silver, not gray from age, but actually silver, like moonlight given physical form. It cascaded in a tangled braid over one shoulder. Her clothes were rough traveling gear, torn and dirty from whatever struggle had led to her capture. But it was her eyes that caught my attention. Green, bright, and absolutely furious.
She didn't look scared; she looked ready to kill someone.
"You made a mistake bringing me here," she said. Her voice was steady, controlled. "My people will come for me."
Viktor laughed. It was an ugly sound. "Your people? You mean that ragtag group of rebels playing soldier in the Wastes? Girl, the Temple's been hunting your kind for months. Half your friends are already dead or in chains. The other half will be soon enough."
He grasped her chin, making her face him. "You're nobody. Nothing. Just another slave now. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be."
She spat in his face.
Silence enveloped the mine. Even the sentries stared at him in apparent disbelief. Nobody resisted Viktor. Not if they wanted to continue breathing.
Viktor's face was a picture of surprise for a heartbeat, then it went cold. He wiped the spittle away slowly, deliberately. Then he backhanded her so hard, she hit the ground.
"Three days," he said quietly. "Three days in the hole without food or water. Maybe that'll teach you some manners."
Two guards stepped forward to seize her, but Viktor raised a hand. "Wait. I have a better idea." He glanced at all of us gathered around. "Since you're all so interested, let's make this educational. Someone volunteer to share a work chain with our new friend here. Show her how things work in Ashveil."
No one moved. Sharing a work chain meant you were responsible for each other's quota. If she couldn't pull her weight, you'd both be punished. It was a trap, and everyone knew it.
Viktor's eyes scoured the crowd, lingered on and then settled on me. I saw the calculation in his face, the cruel pleasure. "You. The quiet one in the back. Step forward."
I didn't hesitate. Hesitation meant weakness, and that was a weakness I couldn't afford to show. I walked forward until I stood a few feet away from the girl, who was picking herself off the ground.
"What's your name, boy?" Viktor asked.
"Eren, sir." It was the name of the body I'd inherited. The name everyone here knew.
"Well, Eren, congratulations. You just got yourself a partner." He motioned to the guards. "Chain them together. Six-foot length. Let's see how well they cooperate."
They came in with heavy iron shackles and clamped one onto my left wrist, another onto the girl's right, chaining us together by a length of chain that would keep us close but not touching. The metal was cold and heavy. I felt the weight of it pull at my thin wrist.
The girl looked at me for the first time. Her eyes were hard, evaluating. I met her gaze and said nothing.
"Back to work, all of you," Viktor ordered. "And remember - they don't meet quota, they don't eat. Simple as that."
The crowd dispersed quickly, everyone returning to their sections. Viktor and his guards left, the sound of their laughter echoing off stone walls. And just like that, I was alone with this angry, silver-haired stranger who'd just made both our lives significantly harder.
She stood there, testing the chain, her jaw tight, before turning to me. "I don't need your help, I can handle my own quota."
"Good," I said simply. "Because I wasn't planning on helping you."
That seemed to surprise her. Most, I had imagined, would either complain at being chained to her or attempt to win her over with sympathy. I did neither; I had enough problems of my own.
I walked towards my section of wall, and the chain pulled taut between us. She had no choice but to follow. When we reached my workspace, I picked up my pick and resumed working. After a moment, she grabbed a spare pick leaning against the wall and started on the stone beside me.
We worked in silence for what felt like hours. The rhythm was awkward at first-we had to coordinate our movements, be aware of where the other person was to avoid tangling the chain. But gradually, we found a pattern that worked.
I studied her when she wasn't looking. Despite the anger, despite the situation, she did not quit. Every swing of her pick was fierce, determined. Her hands started bleeding within the first hour, obviously she wasn't used to this kind of labor, but she didn't stop. Didn't complain. Just kept working.
Tough. Whatever else she was, she was tough.
By the time it got to midday, and the bell was ringing for the water break, we'd actually made pretty good progress on our section. The guards came with a bucket and we each got one ladle of water. I sipped mine, making it last. The girl downed hers in three gulps, then immediately looked like she regretted it.
"First time in a mine?" I asked.
She glared at me. "What's it to you?
"Nothing. Just making conversation."
"Don't." She turned away, as much as the chain would allow. "I'm not here to make friends."
"Good. Neither am I."
We returned to work. But something had shifted, just slightly. We weren't friends, weren't allies. But we weren't enemies either. We were two people stuck in an impossible situation, trying to survive. For now, that was enough.
As the day wore on, I noticed things about her. The way she favored her left side, like she'd bruised ribs. The old scars on her forearms, thin lines that looked like blade training marks. The way her eyes continually scanned the cavern, cataloging exits and guard positions.
She was a fighter, trained and experienced. And she was planning something.
I wondered if I should warn her that escape was impossible. That Viktor had killed more slaves trying to run than disease and exhaustion combined. That the Wastes outside were called that for a reason, nothing lived there except things that wanted you dead.
But I didn't say anything. It wasn't my place to crush whatever hope kept her going. Besides, a part of me, that part that was still Kael Draven, conqueror and emperor, was curious to see what she would do.
When it finally came time to line up for evening rations, we shuffled as a unit. The chain made everything awkward. We had to move in sync, be aware of each other's space. It was intimate in a way that felt invasive, like having someone constantly at your elbow.
We got our bowls of gruel and found a spot against the far wall. Other slaves gave us distance, being chained meant trouble, and nobody wanted trouble.
"What's your name?" I asked after a few minutes of silent eating.
She gave me a suspicious look. "Why do you care?
"Because we're chained together. Seems practical to know what to call you."
She considered this and then shrugged. "Lyra."
"Lyra," I said, trying out the name. "I'm Eren."
"I know. I was there when Viktor said it." She returned to her gruel, clearly indicating the conversation was at an end.
I almost smiled. Almost. There was something refreshing about her hostility. No pretense, no games. Just honest anger at an unfair world.
I could work with that.
As I ate, I could feel the shadows again, stronger than before. They congregated in the corners where our lantern light didn't reach, drawn to something. To me? Or to her? I focused carefully, and then I felt it-a faint resonance coming from Lyra herself. So faint she probably didn't even know it was there.
Shadow affinity.
Raw, untrained, but definitely there. This girl who'd been caught stealing shadowstone, who'd called herself part of some rebel group-she had the potential to wield the very magic the Temple hunted.
And she had no idea.
I looked at her again, seeing her in a new light. This wasn't coincidence; couldn't be. I'd been awake for less than a week, and already I was being chained to someone with shadow affinity? Someone who was connected to the rebels, who'd been stealing the physical source of shadow magic?
It was as if the universe had a sense of irony.
"Get some rest," I said quietly. "Tomorrow won't be any easier." Lyra didn't reply to that, but she leaned back against the wall and closed her eyes. In minutes, sleep overcame her. I sat guard over Lyra's sleep, my head churning with possibilities. I had thought I'd rebuild my power alone, carefully, in secret. But maybe fate had other plans. Maybe this angry, silver-haired girl was meant to be part of my rise. Or perhaps I was just reading too much into coincidence. Either way, tomorrow would be interesting. I closed my own eyes and let exhaustion pull me under, the weight of chains and possibility heavy on my wrist.