The testing hall smelled faintly of metal and cold stone. The air was dense with the quiet of containment—a place where the unknown was acknowledged, measured, and held, rather than feared. The walls were carved with silver-threaded runes, their faint gleam reflecting the flickering amber light from the overhead gas lamps. Leximus stepped inside, shoulders squared though his chest tightened with that familiar, simmering awareness of his own presence.
Calvin followed, silent except for the soft tap of his boots on stone. The hall seemed to shrink around them, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath. From behind a reinforced glass panel, two trusted operatives watched quietly. They were distant, observing, their murmurs swallowed by the weight of the chamber. Leximus noticed them but paid them no mind; his focus was inward, as it always was when his Shadow whispered against the edges of perception.
Calvin stopped in the center of the hall. His gaze held neither warmth nor chill—only the precise observation of a man who had dedicated himself to the unknown.
"Stand," he said. "Do nothing. Let your thoughts drift. Do not will your Shadow. Do not force it. Observe it, and it will respond. That is all."
Leximus inhaled slowly. He let his shoulders loosen, his arms hang naturally. His mind drifted—not to Hespera, not to threats, not even to revenge—but to the fragmentary shadows of himself: the lingering memories of the night his parents were murdered, the way silence had swallowed everything afterward. His chest tightened as he felt the old tremor of fear.
And the Shadow moved.
Not violently, not with malice. It shifted subtly beneath his feet, blending into the corners where the lamplight ended. The floor's edges grew faintly darker, the angles of the walls softened, as if reality itself acknowledged the presence of absence. Leximus felt it, the cold familiarity of the void—not threatening, just alert, aware, patient.
Calvin's eyes narrowed slightly. He noted every ripple, every subtle distortion in the hall.
"Good," he said quietly. "You are stable."
Leximus exhaled, but his mind stayed alert. He focused on a small object Calvin placed on the floor before him: a silver coin, dull and unassuming.
"Do nothing," Calvin instructed. "Let it exist near your thoughts. Observe what the Shadow does, if anything."
The coin wavered in the corner of perception. Its shadow stretched unnaturally, thin and fractured. The coin itself seemed slightly drawn toward the dark patches clinging at Leximus' feet, as if the Shadow were mapping it, measuring its presence—and its absence. No force, no aggression. Only the subtle redrawing of reality's edges.
Leximus' chest rose and fell with slow, deliberate breaths. He felt his Shadow as a field, not a weapon—responsive to thought, to presence, to the questions he didn't dare ask aloud.
Calvin stepped closer. "Now," he said, "focus on something you long for—or something unresolved." He did not push, did not probe. He merely suggested.
Leximus' mind went to his sister. Not her face, not the events of their childhood, but the gnawing, unanswered question of why she had disappeared, why he had been left behind, why he had been powerless then—and powerless in so many ways since.
The hall responded. The air grew chill. The shadows pooled more densely around the corners, stretching and pooling like liquid ink. The faint hum of energy beneath the runes flickered, brightened briefly, then dimmed again. The walls themselves seemed to bend subtly, the echoes of his footsteps uneven. The operatives behind the glass shifted, a subtle tremor of unease crossing their features.
But Leximus did not falter. He breathed in. Breathed out. His thoughts did not fracture; they mirrored, reflecting the Shadow rather than trying to command it. He felt the quiet tether between his mind and the darkness grow firmer, steadier.
Calvin nodded. "Excellent. Now, one final exercise." He raised a hand, signaling the simplest yet most demanding test. "Imagine a path not yet walked. A version of yourself not yet realized. Let the Shadow reach for it, sense it, consider it. Do not shape it. Only observe."
Leximus did as instructed. His mind wandered through impossible corridors: futures he might take, choices he had never dared to imagine, fears that might never be born. The room changed around him. Shadows stretched far longer than light could allow. Distances curved unnaturally. His heartbeat echoed strangely in the hall. The walls' angles shifted ever so slightly, responding not to physical action but to the concept of possibility.
Calvin's lips twitched with faint excitement. "It's not force. It's potential," he murmured under his breath. "It doesn't react to the world—it reacts to thought."
Leximus exhaled again, letting the sensation sink. His Shadow folded neatly against his feet, attentive, patient, a silent companion rather than an unruly child. It was not a power to wield recklessly—it was a presence to understand, to study.
The last of the runes dimmed. The chamber exhaled a long, metallic sigh—the sound of safeties releasing, seals unthreading, pressure lines relaxing. Leximus stood still in the center of the hall, the quiet weight of the session settling on his shoulders like cooling ash.
Calvin approached him, steps measured, eyes sharp with thought rather than fear.
"You did well," he said. "More than well. The alignment… it's stabilized you. And now that we've seen how the Shadow responds to you—how it listens instead of lashes—we can move forward."
Leximus didn't answer at first. He watched the last thin traces of darkness fade from the floor, slipping into their natural shapes. Something inside him still hummed, quiet but alert. His element—whatever this shadow was—didn't feel foreign anymore. It felt… attentive. Patient. Not power, but possibility.
Calvin gestured for him to follow.
"Come," he said. "There's one last thing we need to do today."
They walked through the descending corridors—stone walls stitched with silent wards, pipes breathing low steam, corners washed in cold amber light. The deeper they went, the more the hewn stone narrowed into a corridor lined with locked cabinets and weapon racks. Each lock was etched with silver runes, each rack brimming with carefully maintained tools: spears, glaives, pistols, sabers, and instruments Leximus didn't even recognize.
Weapons meant for Avatars. Weapons meant to channel elements through form.
But none called to him.
Calvin stopped before a black case mounted near the far wall. It wasn't impressive to look at—matte, unadorned, almost deliberately unremarkable. His fingers brushed across the clasp. It clicked open with a muted snap.
Inside lay twin daggers.
Their handles were a dark, oiled brown, carved with a subtle pattern like waves of grain or old whorls of bark. The blades themselves were bronze-lined—thin veins of metal running along the surface like quiet constellations frozen in steel. Even inside the case, the daggers looked as though they belonged in the dark. Not sinister… only natural.
Calvin didn't lift them. He stepped aside.
"Take them."
Leximus reached in. The moment his fingers closed around the handles, the metal pulsed—not with power, but with resonance. As if the blades acknowledged him. As if they recognized the element that lived within him before he had the chance to understand it fully.
"They're not conduits," Calvin said softly. "They don't force your power into shape. They answer it. They respond to… possibility."A faint smile ghosted across his lips."A fitting match."
Leximus slid the daggers into the black double-sheath strapped to the case's inner lid. When he attached it to his belt, the weight felt balanced. Grounding. Right.
Calvin's voice dropped lower.
"You're still Rank 1—Initiate. But even now, your element exhibits traits others don't access until Adept levels. That's… unusual." His eyes narrowed with analytical interest. "You can blend into shadows. Not vanish—blend. And you can sense areas of absence. Not danger. Not movement. Absence. Silence. Voids where something should be."
Leximus swallowed."That's normal for an Initiate?"
"For you," Calvin answered. "We'll learn what that means."
He said nothing more. He didn't need to.
The rest of the walk was quiet.
Calvin dismissed him at the main junction. "Get rest," he murmured. "Next, we'll push further."
Leximus nodded, then turned down the long stone hall alone. The facility felt different tonight. Not darker—he had grown used to the dark—but deeper. As though the corridors themselves exhaled around him, aware of the new presence walking within their walls. He kept a hand near the double-sheath, the daggers steady against his hip.
His footsteps echoed, soft and steady.
Halfway down the passage, he heard movement ahead—three silhouettes turning the corner. He slowed without meaning to.
Rylan saw him first.
"Leximus." His tone was steady, unreadable. He looked tired, but whole.
Liam appeared beside him—broad-shouldered, posture still carrying that faint Fire-born confidence. He eyed the daggers, then Leximus, brows lifting with something between curiosity and caution.
And then the third figure stepped into view.
A girl.
Young—around Leximus' age, maybe a little older. Her hair was pulled back in a messy knot, strands stuck to her forehead with sweat. Bruises marked her jaw and forearms. Her posture was rigid, her breaths shallow. Fatigue clung to her like a second skin.
She stopped when she saw him.
And the look in her eyes…
Not fear. Not confusion.
Disdain. Pure and sharp.
As though his very existence offended her.
Her gaze tracked the daggers, then the faint remnants of shadow that clung to the edge of his presence. Her jaw tightened. Something in her expression hardened—an unspoken judgment, already decided.
Leximus didn't know her. He didn't understand the look.
But he felt its weight.
Liam cleared his throat. "Lex… this is—"
"I know who he is," the girl muttered, cutting him off. Her voice was low, hoarse, but laced with unmistakable contempt.
Rylan shot her a warning glance, but she didn't look away from Leximus.
She stared at him like he was a problem she hadn't been allowed to solve.
Leximus said nothing. He didn't react. He simply stood there, the daggers warm at his side, the shadow inside him watching in silence.
The three passed him, the girl's shoulder barely brushing his as she walked by.
Only after they were gone did the corridor seem to breathe again.
Leximus exhaled slowly… and continued walking forward.