The first interrogation came the next morning.
Adrian woke to the sound of the lock clicking. He sat up quickly, disoriented. The cell had no windows, and the lamp had burned low during the night. He had no idea what time it was.
The door opened, and Caspian Vale stepped inside, followed by another man Adrian hadn't seen before. This one was older, maybe fifty, with grey hair and a thin scar running down his left cheek.
"On your feet," Caspian said.
Adrian stood. His body still ached but the violent shaking from yesterday had subsided.
The older man studied him with cold eyes. "My name is Warden Thorne. I'll be conducting your formal intake interview."
Warden. That's a rank. Caspian is a Warden too. How many ranks does the Vigil have?
"Sit," Thorne gestured to the chair.
Adrian sat. Caspian remained standing by the door whilst Thorne pulled out a small notebook and pencil.
"Full name."
"Adrian Blackstar."
"Age."
"Nineteen."
"Occupation prior to binding."
"None. I was helping my mother run a boarding house."
Thorne made notes. His handwriting was neat and precise.
"Parents' names."
Adrian hesitated. Should I tell them? They might have records. They might connect Mother to her research if I give them the wrong name.
"Mother was Eleanor Blackstar. Father was Marcus. He died when I was seven."
"Cause of death."
"Cholera. At least that's what the physician said."
Thorne's eyes flicked up. "You doubt the diagnosis?"
Careful. Don't reveal too much.
"I was seven. I believed what they told me. But my mother's journals suggested otherwise."
"What journals?"
"The ones destroyed in the explosion."
Caspian shifted against the door. Thorne continued writing.
"Describe the events leading to your binding."
Adrian had prepared for this question. He'd spent half the night awake, crafting a version of events that was mostly true but revealed nothing useful.
"My mother died three days before the explosion. Heart attack. I was sorting her belongings when I found a hidden room behind her wardrobe. There were books. Symbols drawn on the floor. I was curious. I started reading."
"And then?"
"I don't remember clearly. I was reading one of the books whilst walking around the room. I got a paper cut. Blood dripped on the symbols. Then everything went white."
Thorne wrote for a long moment. "You expect us to believe this was entirely accidental."
"I don't expect you to believe anything. I'm telling you what happened."
"Did your mother ever discuss the Vigil with you?"
Lie. They can't prove what she knew.
"No. I'd never heard of you until yesterday."
"Did she ever mention Daos? Practitioners? The supernatural world?"
"She went to church every Sunday. That was the extent of her interest in the spiritual."
Thorne's expression suggested he didn't believe a word of it. But without evidence, there was nothing he could prove.
The interrogation continued for another hour. Questions about his childhood. His education. His mother's associates. Any unusual events in his life.
Adrian answered carefully, revealing only what could be easily verified. By the end, Thorne looked frustrated.
"You'll remain in custody indefinitely," he said as he closed his notebook. "Until we determine what you are and whether you pose a threat. Cooperate and your situation may improve. Resist and it will worsen considerably."
They left without another word. The lock clicked behind them.
Adrian sat alone in the cell and exhaled slowly.
They don't know anything. As long as I keep my story consistent, they can't prove I deliberately completed the ritual.
…
The routine established itself quickly over the following days.
Morning: wake to the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Breakfast delivered through a slot in the door. Porridge, usually. Sometimes bread and weak tea.
Mid-morning: interrogation or assessment. Different Wardens each time. They asked the same questions in different ways, looking for inconsistencies in his story.
Adrian kept his answers identical every time. Word-for-word when possible.
Consistency matters more than cleverness. They're looking for cracks. Any deviation, any contradiction, and they'll know I'm hiding something.
Afternoon: lunch through the door slot. More questions occasionally. But mostly silence.
Evening: dinner. More porridge. Sometimes vegetables.
Night: darkness. Time to think. Time to worry. Time to feel the strange energy moving through his body.
Because something was changing.
…
On the third day, Adrian noticed his hands had stopped shaking entirely. The ache in his bones had faded. He felt stronger. Not dramatically so, but noticeably.
The binding is stabilising. Doctor Rhys said standard practitioner abilities would manifest within days. Enhanced strength. Speed. Durability.
He tested it carefully when he was alone. Push-ups. Squats. He'd always been reasonably fit but nothing exceptional. Now he could do fifty push-ups without breaking a sweat. His muscles didn't burn the way they used to.
This is real. I really am a practitioner now.
On the fourth day, they brought him books.
Doctor Rhys delivered them personally, setting a small stack on the table.
"Reading material," he said. "Warden Vale thought you might be bored."
Adrian looked at the books. They were old. Well-worn.
"What are they?"
"Basic texts about the supernatural world. History of the Vigil. Introduction to spirit cores and binding theory. Nothing classified. Just enough to help you understand what you've become."
They're giving me information. Why? To see what I already know? Or because they've decided I'm not a threat?
"Thank you."
Rhys adjusted his spectacles. "How are you feeling? Any unusual symptoms? Dizziness? Nausea? Voices?"
"Voices?"
"Some bindings come with... complications. Especially unstable ones. If you hear anything that isn't there, tell someone immediately."
Complications. He means corruption. The thing Caspian threatened to execute me for.
"I feel fine. Stronger, actually."
"That's normal. Your body is adapting to the binding." Rhys made a note in his ever-present journal. "Continue to rest. Eat when food is provided. Call if you need anything."
He left. Adrian picked up the first book.
A Brief History of the Tenebris Vigil.
He began to read.
The history was fascinating. And horrifying.
The Vigil had been founded two hundred years ago in response to what the book called "The Plague of Shadows." A period when rogue practitioners had nearly destroyed the capital city of Arathia.
So that's where I am. Arathia. Capital of Erikaya. So an hour away from Kaydwin. My home?
He kept reading.
The Vigil's stated purpose was to protect humanity from supernatural threats. Rogue practitioners. Monsters. Demons. Anything that posed a danger to the mortal world.
They did this by recruiting practitioners, training them, and deploying them as hunters. In exchange for their service, practitioners gained access to resources, training, and protection from persecution.
Protection from persecution. So the general population doesn't know practitioners exist. The Vigil provides legitimacy.
The book mentioned the Twelve Celestials in passing. Divine entities, each associated with one of the known Daos. The church taught that practitioners who followed sanctioned methods gained the Celestials' blessing.
Divine entities. So, practitioners aren't just powerful the can become celestial's?
Adrian set the book down and picked up another. Understanding Spirit Cores and Binding Theory.
This one was more technical. It explained how binding worked. How a practitioner's spirit core expanded when they bound to a Dao. How that expansion granted enhanced physical abilities and access to supernatural powers.
It also explained stages. Seven levels of mastery, each requiring a ritual to advance. Most practitioners never progressed beyond Stage 2. The higher stages required rare materials and carried significant risk.
Seven stages. I'm at Stage 1. The weakest. But even Stage 1 makes me stronger than a normal human.
On the sixth day, Caspian returned.
He entered the cell without preamble and stood looking at Adrian for a long moment.
"You're adapting well. Doctor Rhys reports no signs of instability."
Adrian set his book down. "What happens now?"
"That depends on you." Caspian sat in the chair opposite the bed. "We have a problem, boy. You're bound to something we can't identify. That makes you unpredictable. Potentially dangerous."
"I haven't done anything."
"Yet. But we can't keep you locked in a cell indefinitely. Resources are limited. And frankly, we need bound practitioners. The city has more supernatural threats than we have hunters to deal with them."
He's offering something. What does he want in return?
"So what are you suggesting?"
"Initiate training. You join the other new recruits. Learn to hunt. Learn to control your abilities. Prove you're not a threat. In exchange, you get freedom of movement within headquarters. Access to resources. A chance to become something useful."
"And if I refuse?"
Caspian's smile was cold. "You don't refuse. This isn't a negotiation. You either cooperate and live, or resist, and we have you executed as a rogue practitioner. Those are your options."
No choice at all then.
"When do I start?"
"Tomorrow morning. Initiates begin training at dawn. Be ready."
He stood and walked to the door, then paused.
"One more thing. Don't think this means we trust you. You'll be watched constantly. One wrong move, one sign of corruption, and you're done. Understand?"
"Yes."
Caspian left. The lock clicked.
Adrian lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling.
Tomorrow everything changes. No more cell. No more isolation. I'll be around other practitioners. Other Initiates.
Someone in this building knows what she what mother was researching
I need to be careful. Watch. Listen. Learn. Survive.
On the seventh morning, the door opened early. Before breakfast.
A young man in a black coat stood in the doorway. He looked maybe twenty-five, with dark hair and sharp features.
"Adrian Blackstar?"
"Yes."
"I'm Hunter Marcus Reed. I'll be escorting you to the training grounds. Gather your things."
Adrian had no things. Just the clothes on his back.
He stood and followed Marcus out of the cell for the first time in seven days.
The hallway outside was exactly as he remembered. Stone walls. Iron doors. The smell of damp and old paper.
They climbed the stairs to the ground floor. Through more hallways. Past more doors. The building seemed endless.
"You're lucky," Marcus said as they walked. "Most rogue practitioners get executed on sight. The fact that you survived a binding to an unknown Dao made you interesting enough to keep alive."
"Lucky. Right."
"I'm serious. Warden Vale could have killed you in the street. Instead, he brought you here. That means something."
It means he wants to use me. Figure out what I am. Extract whatever value I have before disposing of me.
But Adrian said nothing.
They emerged into a courtyard. Open air. Grey sky. The cold morning wind hit Adrian's face and he breathed deeply.
Freedom. Sort of.
Other young people were gathering in the courtyard. Maybe twenty of them. All wearing similar dark clothes. All with the same wary, calculating expressions.
Fellow Initiates.
One of them caught Adrian's eye immediately. A tall boy with blonde hair and an arrogant smile. He was laughing with two others, gesturing broadly as he told some story.
That one's dangerous. I can tell just by looking at him.
"That's Julian Ashford," Marcus said, following Adrian's gaze. "Stage 1, but talented. Bound to The Armament Dao. He's killed three creatures already. Very promising."
Of course he is.
Marcus led Adrian to the edge of the group and left him there.
Adrian stood alone, aware of the curious stares. The new arrival. The unknown.
A Warden emerged from a doorway and the courtyard fell silent.
"Listen up, Initiates," the Warden called. "Today we begin combat training. Pair off. Let's see what you can do."
The group began moving, finding partners. Adrian stayed where he was.
I don't know anyone. I don't know their abilities. I'm at a disadvantage.
Someone stepped in front of him. The blonde boy. Julian.
His smile was predatory.
"You're the new one. The mysterious binding. They're saying you survived something impossible."
Adrian met his gaze. "I got lucky."
"Lucky." Julian's smile widened. "Well, let's see how lucky you are in a fight. You and me. First pairing."
The other Initiates turned to watch. Whispers spread through the group.
This is a test. Not just from Julian. Everyone's watching to see what I am. What I can do.
I'm not ready for this. I haven't even discovered my abilities yet. But I don't have a choice.
Adrian nodded slowly.
"Alright. Let's see what you've got."