The Codex lay heavy in Elias's hands, heavier than stone, heavier than guilt. Its surface pulsed faintly with a dark light, like a heart beating beneath leather and ink. The chains that once bound it lay shattered across the floor, lifeless. For the first time in his life, Elias felt as though he was holding something that breathed.
He sat slumped against the wall of the ruined printing house, the echoes of the battle still quivering in the air. The masked figure's shriek lingered in his skull, clawing at his memory, as though it had left an imprint there.
"One shadow bound. Ninety-nine remain…" Elias whispered the words carved onto the Codex's page. His voice trembled. He didn't know what it meant, but he could feel the weight of it pressing down. Whatever had just happened, it was only the beginning.
The whisper stirred again, silk-soft and dangerous.
You are not alone now. You will never be alone again.
Elias flinched. His first instinct was to close the book, to shove it back onto the pedestal, to pretend none of this had ever happened. But the pedestal was cracked, lifeless, as if its purpose had ended. The Codex had chosen.
The chains rattled faintly on the floor, though no hand touched them. He pushed himself up on shaking legs. His coat was dust-stained, his hands streaked with blood from his nose. The building seemed darker now, its corners filled with shifting shadows that twitched when he moved.
No, not shadows. Something else.
When Elias blinked, they disappeared.
"Saints preserve me…" he muttered, though the words felt empty. The saints had never preserved anyone in Grimwald.
He forced himself toward the doorway. Outside, the fog had thickened into a suffocating wall, curling into the ruins like a beast waiting to pounce. The city's usual noises—cart wheels, shouts from late workers, the groan of machinery—felt muted, swallowed by the fog. Only his own heartbeat remained sharp.
Elias tucked the Codex under his coat. The book was warm against his chest, its hum steady. He thought he could almost feel it syncing with his pulse.
Step by step, Elias, he told himself. You can't stay here. Too many eyes. Too many ears.
He walked into the fog.
---
The Rust District was a corpse of industry. Once it had been the pride of Grimwald, its printing houses, textile mills, and furnaces roaring day and night. Now, many lay dead, gutted by fire or swallowed by debts to the guilds. The streets were filled with broken windows, rusted machines, and the smell of soot that never washed away.
Elias passed boarded doors marked with chalk symbols—signs left by thieves, beggars, or worse. Some meant safe. Others meant death inside. He ignored them. Everyone in Grimwald learned to read the chalk eventually.
As he walked, the whisper returned.
You felt it, didn't you? The strength in your veins. The shadow that answered.
He gritted his teeth. "What are you?"
I am the Codex. I am memory. I am shadow. I am yours.
"That… thing. The masked one. What was it?"
The Codex did not answer immediately. Its silence stretched, deliberate. Then: A remnant. A servant of the first bearers. There will be more.
Elias's throat tightened. The streets felt narrower, the fog heavier. Every flicker of shadow along the gas lamps made his skin prickle.
You bound one. There are ninety-nine more. With each, you grow stronger.
"Stronger for what?"
To survive Grimwald. To tear open the veil. To write the last page.
Elias stopped walking. The words burned in his skull, too big for him to grasp. He was a dockhand, nothing more. His life had been survival, coin by coin, meal by meal. Now the Codex spoke as if he were destined for something vast, something terrifying.
And yet…
A part of him thrilled at the thought. To be more than nothing. To matter. To hold power that made masked horrors tremble.
The Codex purred in his chest.
---
By the time Elias reached his tenement, the fog had thinned enough to reveal the familiar grime of his street. The building leaned like a drunk, bricks blackened, windows cracked. Laundry hung stiff and gray on lines strung between houses. Somewhere above, a child cried, and a man shouted curses back.
Home.
Elias slipped inside. The stairwell reeked of mold and stale ale. He climbed to the third floor, careful to avoid the broken steps, and unlocked the door to his room.
The space was small: a cot shoved against the wall, a table missing one leg propped on bricks, a single oil lamp that smoked more than it glowed. The air was damp, but at least it was his.
He set the Codex on the table.
For a long time, he simply stared. The book stared back.
Its cover twitched faintly, like skin stretching over muscle. The inked sigils on its surface shifted, crawling in patterns that almost resembled eyes.
Elias rubbed his face. He should burn it. Throw it into the canal. Run. But he already knew he wouldn't. His hand reached toward it again, trembling not from fear but from want.
The Codex's whisper deepened, soothing, almost fatherly.
You have touched the page. You cannot turn back. Shadows follow you now. Better to command them than be devoured.
Elias hesitated. Then he asked, "How do I command them?"
The book opened. Pages fluttered until it settled on the one with the seared words: One shadow bound. Ninety-nine remain. Beneath it, new letters bled into the page.
Speak the name. Call the shadow. It will answer.
Elias's skin prickled. A shadow? Bound to him? He looked around his room. The corners seemed darker than usual. The lamp flickered.
Heart pounding, he whispered, "Come."
The shadows in the corner thickened. They pooled together like tar, rising into a shape that was not a shape. Two dim pinpricks of light opened where eyes might have been.
Elias stumbled back, his chair clattering. The shadow tilted its formless head, waiting.
He swallowed hard. "What are you?"
The Codex answered for it. It is yours. The first bound. A servant. A weapon. Give it a name, Elias.
His lips trembled. A name. Any name.
"Shade," he whispered.
The shadow rippled, as if bowing. Its pinprick eyes glowed faintly. Then it melted back into the corner, indistinguishable from the darkness.
Elias's breath came fast. His skin was cold, his mind reeling. But beneath the fear was something else—an exhilaration he had never known.
He had power now. A shadow that answered his call.
And power in Grimwald was the only law worth following.
---
That night, Elias barely slept. Every creak of the floorboards, every gust of wind against the shutters made him jolt awake, convinced the masked figure had returned. But nothing came. Only the steady hum of the Codex beneath his pillow, as though it slept beside him.
When dawn broke through the fog, weak and gray, Elias sat up. His eyes were sunken, but his mind burned with questions.
What was the Codex? Who were the "first bearers"? And what did it mean to write the last page?
He didn't know. But one truth had rooted itself deep inside him.
Grimwald was a city of predators. If he remained prey, he would be devoured. But with the Codex, with shadows at his command, he might finally become something more.
Something to be feared.
Elias lit the lamp, its flame small against the foggy light creeping through the cracks of his window. He looked at the Codex one last time before heading out. The words on its open page shifted faintly, as if alive.
One shadow bound. Ninety-nine remain.
And beneath them, new words formed, sharp and hungry:
Seek the second.
Elias closed the book. His path was written now, whether he wanted it or not.
---