When the assembly closed, I didn't hear any sound behind me. The door didn't close because it hadn't opened. This place was like that. It swallows you when you enter, it doesn't release you when you leave. Only you move. Everything else seems to stand still - but it is you who moves.
My feet did not echo on the black stones. Shadows fell on the floor but I could not see the light source. This place had no light, only remembrance. The stone walls still carried the breath of the old gods. The outside of the Shadow Court was less safe than the inside.
There was no sound, no smell, no movement - but he was there. As if separated from the wall, as if stepping out of the shadow. Black fur, shining eyes, walking without sinking into the stone floor: Aman-Tekir.
"You didn't have to be here," I said.
He didn't answer, as usual. But his eyes spoke. He was watching me without moving. There was no expression on his face because he had no face - only presence. It did not belong to me, it was not my protection, but it was always with me. It was not like a shadow, it was the will of the shadow.
"So as long as they keep quiet, you'll have to stay here?"
He was silent again.
I moved forward.
The scythe was still on my back, but I felt its weight more, as if the shadow had remained in the coven and its absence was overwhelming me. Vel Sceptrum was always light, only heavy when he didn't want to carry it.
"Which one do you think is lying?" I said, without looking back.
"Isira? Ares? Or Odin's proxy?"
I paused.
"Or... all of them?"
There was no sound of Aman-Tekir, but I heard footsteps, a click on the stone. A claw, then another. He approached slowly. He stopped next to me. He didn't pass me. But he didn't stay behind me either. I kept walking.
As I walked along the stone walls, I started to feel the wind. Normally there is no wind here. It was a sign from inside. Either someone was pulling the shadow or someone was walking into the shadow. It was the same thing.
When we reached the colonnaded passage, I saw a figure ahead. He was not holding a staff, he was not carrying a scythe. But his posture was that of a god's representative. I didn't recognize the silhouette. This was someone who was not in the assembly. But he was close enough to witness the decisions of the assembly.
I did not stop.
Aman-Tekir, who was standing next to me, didn't move.
The figure did not speak, but it did not move away either. As I got closer I noticed a detail - his eyes were closed. He was standing, silent and his eyes were sealed. There were seals on the fingers of his hand. But they were not symbols of a god, but of the old darkness.
I didn't know his name, but I knew who he was.
"You don't want to talk," I said. "Because you have no mouth. I can't listen to you but I can read you."
The eyelids moved.
The shadows lengthened.
The floor darkened.
A voice came from behind me. Short, muffled, almost a murmur. Was it Aman-Tekir? I couldn't tell if it came from inside the wall. Something was either emerging or seeping out from inside. And it did not belong to the shadow. It belonged to something that even the gods had forgotten the name of.
I took a step. The silhouette dissipated. Aman-Tekir came up behind me, mapping his shadow to mine.
I did not speak. The last words echoing off the stone walls were not for me, but for others.
I knew I would no longer be alone on this path.
But what I carried with me carried no loyalty, only purpose.
The dissolution of the silhouette was not like a mountain moving. It was more like the opening of a rift that had been covered up. What was visible did not go away; it only changed shape. Its absence was heavier than its presence. The air seemed to be sucked out, the stone walls sagged inwards for a moment, and then they were back the way they were. But something was still there. Unseen, but watching me.
Aman-Tekir narrowed his eyes. He did not move forward. As always, he was at his most dangerous when he did not react. If he remained silent, it meant that the shadow had not yet been deemed worth moving. I still wasn't holding the scythe in my hand, but it was like a stone on my back. And interestingly, it wasn't getting heavier. As if even Vel Sceptrum was waiting.
Shadows began to climb the walls. This was not directly related to the light. It was the memory of the place itself. When it remembers it casts shadows, when it forgets it leaves gaps. He was remembering now. Us, that figure, even the first step on this stone.
I kept walking slowly, my footsteps still silent. If the ground was silent, it was either because of me or against me. I don't know. Everything was uncertain. Uncertainty itself was giving me direction here.
The corridor narrowed at one point. There were cracks in the left wall - scratches that were inconspicuous but up close looked like writing. Not fingerprints, not fingernail marks, but something carved by time itself. I bent down and looked.
"When he comes, we will be silent."
It was written in four languages. Ancient Egyptian, Ancient Turkish, an Aztec sequence of symbols and a sign I didn't recognize. All four said the same sentence. All on the same line of stone, in different alphabets, but with the same slope.
I did not put this article but I knew very well who did.
Aman-Tekir was behind me, but close.
His silence was not one of patience but of watchfulness.
"They won't talk," I said. "But the stones do."
I took another step and the wall cracked.
No, not the symbol. The wall itself cracked.
A thin line spread through the surface of the wall.
What came out of it first made a sound.
Click.
Then a breath.
It was as if someone was behind the stone and had just woken up.
Vel Sceptrum shivered on my back.
That was rare. He only woke of his own volition.
That's when I realized it wasn't me who summoned the shadow.
Someone had already called me.
I put my fingers close to the crack in the stone, but I didn't touch it. Such things are not to be touched. Some seals are opened not by touching, but by remembering. This crack was one of them. I stood still, waiting, breathing behind the stone.
Aman-Tekir was waiting beside me like a shadow. He was still motionless. Only his eyes were fixed on the inner wall of the stone. He saw something. Something I couldn't see.
The wall suddenly vibrated backwards. The crack widened. But it didn't fall, didn't explode, didn't collapse. It only opened. No light came through, no darkness. Sound came.
A short, thin, fingernail-on-stone sound.
Then a whisper.
"Zan...Ka...tuk..."
Was it a name? A warning? It was in a language I did not recognize, but I felt its weight. It echoed in my chest, not in the ear - in the bone.
Aman-Tekir's ears pricked up. I took a step back.
The sound was not repeated, but it left a mark. A mark carved in stone.
At first it looked faint. Then, as the shadow receded, it became clear.
It's circular, with a zigzag around it. An eye inside - an eye that doesn't look.
I didn't recognize him, but the stone remembered him. Vel Sceptrum moved by itself on my back. The tip of the scythe touched the ground, involuntarily. Another seal faded. This seal belonged outside the Shadow Court.
I backed away slowly.
When I return, this wall may not be here, but this trace remains and the name "Zankatuk" is now inside me.
I will not forget that name because that name has called me and if the call is not answered, the shadow will not return.