The shop was quiet, but not empty.
The shelves in the front had been arranged with care—books stacked neatly, cracked clocks polished just enough to tick once or twice before failing again. Anyone peeking through the window would see what they expected: a struggling store run by an ordinary young man. Nothing more.
The back room told another story.
A candle burned low in the center of the table. Its light painted three figures in gold and shadow. Jonas sat with his broad arms crossed, his steady frame filling half the room. Mara leaned back against her chair, legs crossed, sharp eyes fixed on me as if weighing every word. And me—I held a pencil, its tip hovering over the empty ledger.
Three shadows. A name unspoken on our lips. Umbra.
---
"This won't work unless we're careful," Mara said, her voice cool but edged. "The corps have their spies in every corner. Red Fang watches the streets like hawks. If we move too loud, we'll end up in the ground."
I tapped the pencil against the ledger. "We won't move loud. We'll move quiet. Masks in the dark, faces in the light. No one will know who we are—only that something is out there. A shadow with teeth."
Jonas' deep voice rumbled. "Shadows can't stop blades."
I looked at him. He sat calm, his tone steady, but his fists flexed on the table. He wasn't doubting—he was making sure I understood the risk.
"That's why we'll be more than shadows," I said. "We'll be a mask. The city will see what we let them see. Nothing more."
Mara tilted her head, studying me. "And when they start looking closer?"
I smiled faintly. "Then we'll already be somewhere else."
---
The Lexicon pulsed in my chest, pages turning soundlessly. The hum deepened as if approving the path being carved. My fingers tingled with the weight of it. This wasn't just words—it was commitment.
"We'll need rules," I said.
Jonas leaned forward. "Rules?"
"Yes. Rules that keep us alive." I ticked them off one by one. "No names. No faces. Masks in the shadows, normal lives in the day. Umbra is the mask; we are just the wearers."
Mara's eyes glinted. "And when the mask slips?"
"Then we bleed for it," I said. "Because the mask is bigger than us. Umbra has to outlive every one of us."
The candle hissed, flame swaying as if it agreed.
---
Silence lingered. Jonas finally spoke, voice steady as a drum. "Then what's our purpose? We strike gangs? Corps? The government itself?"
I leaned back, feeling the Lexicon warm in my chest. "Not for greed. Not for glory. We strike to shield the ones without power. We strike to cut down those who abuse it. We'll kill if we must. But every shadow we cast will have a reason."
Jonas nodded once, slow and sure. "For the ones without shields."
Mara exhaled through her nose, then smirked faintly. "And for those too afraid to strike back."
Her words hung sharp, but there was no doubt behind them.
I closed the ledger with a soft snap. "For them. For us."
---
The candle burned low, wax dripping onto the table. Shadows stretched tall across the walls, flickering with the flame.
The mask had been set.
Umbra was no longer an idea whispered in my chest. It was alive, breathing in the hidden corners of the city.
And for the first time since my parents' graves, I felt the stir of something dangerous.
Hope.
---
Author's Note:
Umbra's Rules Established: Masks, secrecy, dual lives—faces by day, shadows by night.
Philosophy Set: Umbra exists to protect the powerless and punish oppressors, even through blood.