Orion checked each of his apprentices, making sure they were unharmed, and only then did he speak. His voice was low, heavy with shame. "I am sorry, my pupils. I failed you. I allowed fear and anger to rule me, and I let the other side of myself loose. I struck down the humans and the shadows alike. I captured one… and yes, Night, I know it was your father. I kept him because I hoped we could free him, but I fear the shadow has rooted too deeply. I may not be able to save him. I may even have to end his life. But I swear I will try everything before that moment comes."
He drew out the stone, sang a shaping song, and the cottage shifted—six bedrooms forming, and a sealed chamber for the captive. He carried the cat‑man inside and secured him gently but firmly. Then Orion began the Song of Truth, weaving it with another melody meant to draw out corruption. The possessed man shuddered between moments of clarity and shadowed defiance.
Orion asked, "Shadow, what must be done to remove you?"
The thing inside only laughed.
Days passed. While the others trained outside—sword, magic, and discipline—Orion searched for a way to reach the being buried beneath the corruption. The Song of Truth alone was not enough. The shadow resisted every attempt, mocking him, reminding him that only the host suffered.
Finally, Orion called the orcs together. "Search your sword‑stores. Look for anything—any lore—about shadows that have held a host for years." They obeyed, and Orion searched his own ancient texts. Two days later the orcs returned with a single answer.
"Dragon fire."
Orion exhaled slowly. "Then we must find a dragon… unless…" His eyes hardened with resolve. "Let me try one thing."
He brought the others to the chamber. "Sing the Song of Truth. As loud and steady as you can." As their voices rose, Orion stepped inside, let the dragon within him surface, and breathed fire—not to destroy, but to purify.
A scream tore through the chamber. The shadow ripped free of the host, unable to withstand truth and flame together, and perished. When the fire faded, the cat‑man lay untouched by burns, but unmoving—his spirit seemingly gone.
Orion knelt beside him and began a Song of Guidance, calling to the lost soul. Night joined him, voice trembling as she whispered her father's name. Orion wove Gallo's name into the melody, anchoring it.
By morning, Gallo opened his eyes.
He looked around in confusion. Night leaned close, tears already falling. "Poppa… do you remember me?"
Gallo blinked, then whispered, "Kitten? My little Night?"
Orion watched carefully. "Is this truly him, or the shadow pretending?"
Night shook her head. "It's him."
Orion asked, "Gallo, do you remember anything of the shadow world?"
Gallo's expression darkened. "They control cities… even a kingdom. More hosts than you can imagine. Entire bloodlines—kings, queens—taken. They have a ruler above them all. They know about you. They know you have apprentices. They killed every dragon they could find. Dragon fire burns away anything that is not true."
Orion nodded slowly. "That explains the dragon cores in the living swords. And the runes of truth. And why the oath binds us. Without truth, the sword cannot bond. Without the oath, the blade cannot awaken."
He looked at the others. "Search your books. There must be more."
Everyone except Night and Gallo began researching ways to free long‑possessed hosts. Night and her father cooked for the group, speaking quietly about the past—how she and her mother had known he was no longer himself, how they mourned him long before today.
Gallo explained, "It began with dark thoughts. Thoughts that weren't mine. When I questioned them, excuses appeared in my mind, perfect and convincing. I knew I had to leave before I harmed you or your mother."
He hesitated. "Do you think… I could train to be a sword mage?"
Night smiled softly. "We'll ask Orion."
They brought the request to him, and after sharing everything Gallo remembered, the group agreed to sing the Song of Truth together every morning. Training began immediately. The orcs taught Gallo the hand‑to‑hand forms—three instructors at once, overwhelming but effective. The girls helped, and Orion offered guidance whenever needed.
Gallo trained hard from the first morning. The orcs didn't go easy on him; they never did with anyone they respected. Alric corrected his footing, Duric barked reminders about balance, and Orick kept telling him to breathe from the core. The girls stepped in whenever he slipped, adjusting his stance or showing him how to move his hips with the strike. Orion watched from the side, arms folded, only speaking when something truly mattered. When he did, everyone listened.
Gallo learned fast for someone who had just come back from the edge of death. His body remembered more than he expected, and every time he managed a clean form, Night's tail flicked with pride. She kept close to him, not hovering, but always aware. Orion noticed it and said nothing. Some wounds needed time, not words.
By the end of the week, Gallo could run the first five stances without stumbling. He still moved like someone relearning his own limbs, but there was strength there. Determination. The kind that made Orion nod to himself when no one was looking.
Every morning, they sang the Song of Truth together. It echoed through the clearing, steady and strong, and even the trees seemed to listen. Gallo's voice shook the first few days, but by the end of the week it held steady. Night stood beside him, singing with her eyes closed, her hand brushing his just enough to remind him he wasn't alone.
In the evenings they gathered around the fire. The orcs read through their ancestors' journals, muttering about old battles and forgotten techniques. The girls copied spells into their books, comparing notes and laughing whenever one of them mispronounced a rune. Orion sat apart, surrounded by open tomes, tracing old diagrams with a frown. Every so often he would look up at Gallo, studying him like a puzzle he was determined to solve.
One night, after everyone else had gone to sleep, Gallo approached Orion. "I want to earn it," he said quietly. "Not because I was saved. Not because I'm Night's father. I want to earn the right to stand with you."
Orion closed the book in his lap. "Then you will. But understand this—being a sword mage isn't about power. It's about truth. If you walk this path, it will demand everything from you."
Gallo nodded. "It already has."
Orion studied him for a long moment, then motioned for him to sit. "Tell me everything you remember. Every detail. Even the ones that don't make sense."
So, Gallo talked. About the shadow world. About the cities that had fallen without anyone realizing. About the king the shadows served. About the way they slipped into a person's mind like a whisper and stayed there until the host couldn't tell which thoughts were theirs anymore.
The fire crackled between them. Orion listened without interrupting; his expression unreadable.
When Gallo finished, Orion finally spoke. "Then we have much more work ahead of us than I thought."
Gallo swallowed. "Do you regret saving me?"
Orion shook his head. "No. Saving one soul is never a mistake. But it does mean the shadows will come for us sooner than I planned."
Gallo straightened. "Then I'll be ready."
Orion gave a small, rare smile. "You will be."