Life in Mistbridge was simple and harsh.
Vaelor and Lyria adapted quickly. She found work as a laundress in one of the few minor noble households in town, while he took on small jobs that required no eye contact: carrying goods, cleaning stables, anything that earned a few coins.
"A blind boy working in the stables." The local market foreman had looked at him skeptically on the first day. "How do you expect to be useful?"
"Give me a week." Vaelor replied calmly. "If I don't perform, don't pay me."
The foreman, more out of curiosity than generosity, agreed.
It turned out Vaelor was more efficient than half his regular workers. His mice warned him of obstacles, Gris watched people's movements, and his trained body handled heavy loads without trouble. At the end of the week, the foreman not only paid him but offered a permanent position.
"There's something strange about you, boy." He said as he handed over the coins. "But you're useful. That's what matters here."
Vaelor accepted the compliment without comment.
◇ ◇ ◇
Nights were dedicated to training.
Behind the inn was a small clearing surrounded by trees that no one used. Vaelor made it his practice field, exercising under the stars while his beasts kept watch.
His body responded to training in ways he couldn't explain. The combat moves he'd used against the assassins flowed more naturally each day, as if he were remembering rather than learning.
The stances, attack angles, weight distribution... everything seemed to come from some deep place in his memory.
'Who was I?' he sometimes wondered. 'Before I was Vaelor Ashford, who was I?'
Answers didn't come. Only fragments: the roar of dragons, the heat of black flames, a female voice whispering "let's start again."
He decided to stop questioning. What mattered was the present.
◇ ◇ ◇
Three months after arriving, Vaelor decided it was time to expand his contracts.
"I'm going to the wild lands." He announced one morning. "Just for a day. I want to see what kinds of beasts live nearby."
Lyria dropped the plate she was washing.
"You can't go alone, young master! It's too dangerous."
"I have to." Vaelor stood, adjusting his mask. "If I want to progress as a tamer, I need beasts stronger than Gris and the mice."
"Then I'll go with you."
"No." His tone brooked no argument. "If something happens to me, I need you safe. I can't risk both of us."
"But—"
"Lyria." Vaelor turned toward her, and though he couldn't see her, his words carried weight. "Trust me. I've survived worse than wild beasts."
'Though I don't exactly remember what,' he added silently.
The servant pressed her lips but finally nodded.
"Promise me you'll be back before nightfall."
"I promise."
◇ ◇ ◇
The wild lands began less than an hour's walk from town.
The transition was abrupt. One moment you were in a normal forest, with birds singing and squirrels darting among the trees. The next, silence fell like a heavy blanket, and the vegetation grew denser, darker, more threatening.
Vaelor sent Gris ahead, mapping the terrain through the bird's eyes. What he found was promising: tracks of beasts of various sizes, claw marks on trees, and occasionally, the glint of bright eyes watching him from the underbrush.
'They're studying me,' he understood. 'Evaluating if I'm prey or threat.'
He kept walking.
After an hour, he found what he sought.
A natural clearing, a circle of bare earth surrounded by ancient trees. In the center, half-hidden among the roots of a giant oak, was a creature.
Gris transmitted the image: a dog-sized animal covered in black-blue fur that seemed to absorb light. Its eyes were bright yellow, and something in its posture suggested intelligence beyond a common beast.
'A Shadow,' Vaelor identified. 'Rank E, possibly low D. Young, judging by its size.'
Shadows were taboo beasts in civilized society. Their connection to darkness and curses made them feared and hunted. But to Vaelor, that very connection made them perfect.
He approached slowly, keeping his movements predictable, non-threatening. The Shadow watched cautiously, growling softly when he was ten meters away.
"Calm." Vaelor murmured, more out of habit than belief the beast would understand. "I'm not your enemy."
Then he did the only thing he could.
He removed his mask.
◇ ◇ ◇
His red eyes shone in the forest's dim light.
The Shadow tensed... then relaxed.
There was no terror. No panic. Only curiosity, as if it saw something it recognized but couldn't name.
"So it works the same with you." Vaelor smiled faintly. "My curse doesn't affect you."
The Shadow tilted its head.
'Interesting,' its gaze seemed to say. 'Very interesting.'
Vaelor sat on the ground, legs crossed. He didn't move, didn't threaten, simply... waited.
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
Gradually, the Shadow approached. It sniffed the air around Vaelor, circling closer and closer. When it was close enough to touch, it stopped.
Their eyes met.
And in that moment, Vaelor felt something he hadn't experienced before: resonance. It was as if his curse and the Shadow's natural darkness recognized each other, two pieces of the same puzzle.
"Do you want to come with me?" Vaelor asked softly. "I won't force you. I won't tame you against your will. But if you choose to follow me... I promise you'll never be alone again."
The Shadow studied him for a long moment.
Then, slowly, it inclined its head.
Acceptance.
◇ ◇ ◇
The Dominion Contract formed with surprising ease.
When Vaelor returned to Mistbridge that night, he had a shadow walking by his side. Lyria almost screamed when she saw it, but held back when she noticed the calm in Vaelor's posture.
"Young master... what is that?"
"It's called Umbra." He replied, stroking the dark fur of his new beast. "And it's our new companion."
The Shadow looked at Lyria with its yellow eyes. The servant shivered, but not with terror. It was as if the beast evaluated her and decided she was... acceptable.
"It's... beautiful." Lyria finally admitted, surprising herself.
"It is." Vaelor smiled beneath his mask. "And it's only the beginning."
That night, he slept with a bird on the windowsill, mice in his pockets, and a creature of shadows curled at his feet.
His army was beginning to take shape.