The moon hung low above Domina Noctis, veiled in twilight mist.
Beneath it, the faint hum of newly built structures whispered through the valley — homes carved into stone, bridges of dark marble spanning rivers of glowing moss.
The kingdom beneath the world was finally breathing.
Sora stood atop a half-finished balcony carved from obsidian. His coat fluttered like a shadow stitched to the wind. Below, his minions moved — flickers of black and silver, building, carrying, laughing, arguing over whose job it was to hold the ladder.
Dorte leaned against a pillar beside him, biting into an apple he had probably stolen from the supply cart.
"Your minions are either geniuses or idiots," he said.
Sora didn't look at him. "That's leadership. You make idiots think they're geniuses so they don't quit."
One of the shadows fell into a pile of bricks.
"See?" Dorte said flatly.
Sora sighed. "...He's a genius at falling."
The two watched in silence as the chaos below somehow turned into progress. Every mistake became a part of the plan — every tumble, every argument. It was messy, loud, and alive.
And for Sora, it was the first time in a long while that silence didn't hurt.
---
[Construction Grounds – Night]
Umbra, Noiré, and Grave — his first three minions — stood before him, each kneeling in the half-finished courtyard. The faint torchlight reflected on their obsidian-like skin, giving them form and presence.
Sora placed a hand on each of their heads. His voice was calm, but carried weight — not as a king of darkness, but as something gentler.
> "Umbra — the formless one. You are the dusk before night, the whisper between every breath. Guard my silence."
Umbra's shadow deepened and bowed. "Yes, my king."
> "Noiré — the cunning flame within the dark. You will guide the others with wit sharper than steel, even if they forget the reason for the flame."
Noiré smirked faintly. "Already do, boss."
> "And Grave — the keeper of endings. You will carry the memory of all we lose… and all we build again."
Grave nodded solemnly. His voice was quiet, heavy. "Then I'll bear that weight, master."
Dorte, watching nearby, muttered, "You name them like you're writing poetry at a funeral."
Sora replied dryly, "That's how I cope with stress."
---
[Later – Campfire Outside the Main Hall]
The night settled heavy. Torches flickered, and workers' laughter softened into quiet murmurs.
Sora and Dorte sat beside a dim fire, overlooking the half-built spires of Domina Noctis.
Dorte broke the silence. "Never thought I'd see a cathedral knight sitting next to the so-called 'Shadow King.'"
Sora chuckled. "Never thought I'd see a cathedral knight who eats stolen apples."
"I didn't steal it."
"You did."
"…Maybe."
They shared a faint laugh — not of mockery, but of strange comfort.
Sora looked at the horizon, where the black mist met faint streaks of moonlight. "You know, I used to think ruling meant controlling everything. But this…" He gestured at the half-built domain. "This feels more like chaos management."
Dorte smirked. "Welcome to leadership. It's just fancy babysitting with more paperwork."
Sora leaned back. "You sound like someone who's done this before."
Dorte's expression softened. "I've followed enough kings to know what breaks them. You're different, though. You… actually listen to people."
"Because I was one once."
Dorte glanced at him. "A person?"
Sora smiled faintly. "A fool."
The wind brushed through their hair. For a moment, neither spoke — two men from opposite worlds, now sitting beneath the same moonlight.
---
[Elsewhere – Domina Noctis' Heart]
Umbra's voice echoed through the underground halls as he directed the lesser shadows. "Noiré! The bridge stones don't fit!"
Noiré yelled back, "They're supposed to not fit! That's artistic tension!"
Grave muttered, "That's called bad geometry."
"Shut up, Grave!"
From the upper balcony, Sora watched with a faint grin. He whispered under his breath, "They'll probably destroy the place before it's even done…"
Dorte stood beside him again, arms crossed. "And yet, they're still building. That's loyalty."
Sora replied softly, "No… that's family."
The words escaped him before he realized it.
Dorte gave him a side glance, his tone teasing. "Careful, my lord, you're starting to sound human again."
Sora smirked. "Disgusting, isn't it?"
They both laughed quietly.
---
[Later That Night – The Hall of Veils]
Sora wandered the halls alone, his footsteps echoing against the marble floor.
Every wall bore carvings — stories of light and shadow, of battles lost and won, of peace that never lasted.
He stopped before a window carved from translucent obsidian, looking out at the moonlight spilling across the land.
In the reflection, he saw his own face — tired, sharp, but not hollow.
Sora (thought):
> "I've built empires before… but this one feels alive."
A faint chuckle escaped his lips.
> "Guess that's what happens when you stop pretending to be a god."
The shadows behind him stirred gently — Umbra, Noiré, and Grave bowing quietly.
Umbra: "Master, the foundation is stable."
Noiré: "And the kitchen's running. Mostly. The soup moves on its own now."
Grave: "…We don't talk about the soup."
Sora blinked. "...The soup is sentient?"
Dorte's voice called from another room, "DON'T TOUCH THE SOUP!"
Sora sighed. "I leave for one minute…"
The hall filled with laughter — his, Dorte's, even the minions'.
For once, the echoes didn't sound lonely.
---
[Narrator]
And thus, beneath the veil of eternal dusk, the foundation of Domina Noctis took shape.
A kingdom not of light or darkness, but of everything in between — the forgotten, the weary, the lost.
Its ruler sat not upon a throne of conquest, but beside a fire of laughter.
And in that laughter… the world began again.
> "The night no longer wept for kings — it sang for fools who dared to build beneath the stars."