The silence in the labyrinth chamber was heavy enough to choke on.
Everyone's eyes were on me—some wide with fear, others narrowed with suspicion. The black crystal behind me pulsed faintly, like it was alive, feeding off the chaos.
I rubbed the back of my neck and gave them my best "don't-look-at-me-I'm-just-lucky" grin.
"…So, uh. That just happened."
No one laughed. Not even Erynd.
"Step away from the crystal, boy."
The voice came from the proctor with the gray beard—the scarred veteran who'd announced The Gauntlet earlier. His tone wasn't asking. It was demanding.
I did as told, my hands raised like I was innocent. Which, technically, I was. Mostly.
The crystal stopped pulsing the moment I moved back. The other candidates looked from me to the artifact like I'd somehow offended a god.
"What the hell was that?" a noble spat. His eyes were bloodshot, his face pale. "No one touches the core without being burned alive—and you just—"
"I just… didn't burn?" I said, trying to sound casual. "Lucky genes, I guess?"
"Lucky?" He stepped toward me, hand on his blade. "You think you're clever, peasant?!"
Erynd moved between us, wooden sword raised like it could actually stop a noble's steel. "Back off. He didn't do anything wrong."
I sighed. "Look, can we not start a sword-measuring contest right now? I'm not in the mood to be stabbed today."
The noble's face twisted with anger. He started to say something—then stopped.
Because my shadow twitched.
I felt it before I saw it. A ripple across the ground, cold as a winter night, stretching out like dark ink. And in that ink… a silhouette. A figure on one knee, armored, head bowed.
"Do you command me, my liege?"
The voice was deep, resonant, and only I could hear it.
My breath caught. Who the hell—?
"Riven…?" Erynd's voice broke the moment.
The silhouette faded as quickly as it came. My shadow returned to normal, just a smear under my feet.
"…I'm fine," I muttered, though my heart was pounding like a drum.
What was that? That wasn't just instinct. That felt like… someone.
The proctor's voice echoed through the chamber:
"Enough. The trial is complete. Candidates, return to the surface."
No one argued. No one even looked at me anymore. They just… kept their distance.
Back on the surface, the sky was turning orange, the sun dipping behind the academy's towering spires. The proctors began recording results, calling out names one by one.
Most of the candidates looked battered and exhausted. I looked… mostly clean, aside from monster goo. Which made it worse. Nobles glanced at me like I'd cheated my way through the trials.
Erynd sat next to me on the steps, chewing on a piece of dried jerky like he hadn't almost died five times in the labyrinth.
"You good? You went kinda… quiet back there."
"I'm fine," I lied. "Just… processing the whole 'we survived' thing."
"Survived? Dude, you dominated. What was that shadow wall thing? Do you even know what you're doing?"
"Nope," I said, popping the 'p.'
The names kept rolling. About half the candidates didn't make it. When my name came up—"Riven Ardyn"—I expected boos or groans. Instead, there was just silence. No one wanted to draw attention to me now.
"Passed," the proctor said simply, moving on.
Erynd elbowed me. "See? We're in."
I smiled faintly, but my thoughts were elsewhere. That voice. That knight.
Later, when the yard had cleared, I stood alone near the edge of the field, staring at my own shadow.
"…Who are you?" I whispered.
The silence stretched for a long moment—then came a faint reply, so soft I thought I imagined it.
"I am your blade. I wait for your word, my liege."
My throat tightened.
"…I don't even know who I am here. How the hell am I supposed to command you?"
The shadow rippled faintly. Then silence.
"Creepy," I muttered, turning to leave.
But deep down, I felt it—this wasn't the last time I'd hear that voice.
Night settled over the academy's outer yard like a heavy cloak. After the results were announced, most candidates were escorted to their temporary quarters. I should've been sleeping, but my mind wouldn't shut up.
The shadow from the labyrinth… that voice…
I sat on the edge of my cot, staring at the ground. My shadow stretched under the pale lantern light, still and silent—like it was waiting.
"…Alright," I muttered, "if you're in there, say something. Or, you know, keep being mysterious. That works too."
For a while, nothing happened. Then the temperature in the room dropped. The shadow rippled.
"You seek my name, my liege?"
I froze. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Yeah. That'd be nice. 'Creepy Shadow Dude' doesn't sound great."
There was a pause—like the figure inside was considering whether I was worth answering.
"…I am Veythar. The Black Oath. Your blade… as I have always been."
The name hit me like a stone dropped in a pond. Veythar. It sounded ancient, heavy with meaning.
"Veythar," I repeated quietly. "And what exactly are you?"
"I am your knight. Your shadow. Your sword arm. I have waited in silence… until you called."
I leaned back, rubbing my temples. "Okay, cool, that doesn't sound creepy at all. But, uh… why me? I'm not exactly the picture of royalty."
"You do not remember." The voice was flat, but there was something in it—a faint, almost sad tone. "But you will."
I didn't like the sound of that. Not one bit.
A loud knock on the door snapped me out of it.
"Riven! You alive in there?" It was Erynd, of course.
"Barely," I called back.
He barged in, carrying a plate of something that vaguely resembled food. "Dinner's terrible, but at least it's free. Tomorrow, we start academy orientation. We need energy, man!"
"Great," I muttered. "Can't wait to get lectured about how useless I am."
Erynd sat cross-legged on the floor, chomping on what looked like charred meat. "People are already talking about you, you know. The shadow thing? They're calling you the 'cheater from nowhere.'"
"Cheater, huh?" I said, forcing a grin. "I guess I'm moving up from 'worthless.' That's progress."
Erynd smirked. "Hey, you survived, didn't you? Let them talk. We're gonna rock that academy."
I lay back on the cot, staring at the ceiling, but my thoughts weren't on the academy.
Veythar. The Black Oath.
That wasn't a name you just made up. It felt old. Heavy. Like a promise buried under centuries.
That night, I dreamt of a battlefield.
Dark skies. Blades clashing. Shadows moving like an army of living death.
And at the center… a knight in black armor, kneeling before me, his voice deep and unwavering:
"My liege. Shall we rise again?"
I woke with a start, breath heavy, heart pounding.
Morning came with a sharp knock and the sound of a horn outside.
"Orientation!" someone yelled.
Erynd groaned from the next bed. "We just survived the trials, and now they want us bright and early? These people are sadists."
I dragged myself up, shaking off the dream. Veythar's name still echoed in my mind.
Whatever was happening to me… it was only the beginning.