At the cathedral, the Shadow Army gathered under moonlight.
Silent faces, sharpened blades, eyes like steel.
The city below trembled, unaware of the oath being sworn.
Aren stood before them.
"The crown is not yet mine," he said.
"But the city is ours. Its whispers. Its loyalty. Its fear."
He drew a dagger from his belt.
Metal gleamed in pale light.
"This is the oath," he declared.
"By shadow and steel, by silence and blood, we serve not a king… but the Wolf among kings."
One by one, the captains, scouts, and allies pressed a hand to the dagger.
"By shadow and steel," they repeated.
"By silence and blood," they echoed.
"By the Wolf among kings," they finished.
Even Tom, standing at the back, whispered the words.
A boy no longer.
He had learned fear. Loyalty. Shadows.
Aren looked out at Greyhaven.
The city slept, unknowing, beneath the weight of their oath.
And yet, the Wolf knew this:
Fear alone could not hold forever.
Trust had to be carefully earned.
Allies carefully watched.
Enemies carefully controlled.
Lysa approached.
"They have taken the oath," she said.
"Now the city belongs to us?" Tom asked.
Aren smiled faintly.
"No. The city belongs to the one who can wield the shadows longest… and survive the cost."
Above, the moon shone on stone and steel.
And for the first time, the Wolf felt the true weight of command.
Greyhaven was his.
But the kingdom…
That was still a game of shadows, waiting to be won.