The Whisperer returned three days later.
But this time, it didn't hide in the shadows. It came openly, manifesting in the center of the Scavenger's Market as a column of writhing darkness, its many mouths singing a song of despair.
"I have come with a message from the Hollow King," the Whisperer announced. "Surrender the Light Bringer, and the rest of you may live. Resist, and everyone you love will die screaming."
The market erupted in chaos. People ran. People screamed. People fell to their knees and prayed to gods who hadn't answered in three hundred years.
Lee stood his ground.
"You're not here to deliver a message," he said, Onyx Tempest in his hand. "You're here to test us. To see if we're strong enough to resist."
The Whisperer's many mouths smiled. "Clever boy. Yes. The Hollow King wants to know what kind of enemy he's facing. He wants to know if you're worth his personal attention."
"Then tell him I am."
"Oh, I will." The Whisperer's form shifted, growing larger, more menacing. "But first... let's see what you're made of."
It attacked.
Lee met it head on, golden light blazing, Onyx Tempest singing through the air. Behind him, his friends joined the fight Kira with her fire, Taro with his flexibility, Ren with his shadow form.
And Inyocha.
Inyocha fought with the wooden sword Lee had given him clumsy, desperate, but determined. He had no shadows to call on now. No darkness to hide behind. Just a stick and a stubborn refusal to give up.
The Whisperer laughed. "Look at you, Shadow Weaver. Reduced to this. A boy with a stick, pretending to be a hero."
"I'm not pretending," Inyocha said, blocking a tendril of darkness. "I'm becoming."
He struck a clumsy blow, badly aimed, easily deflected.
But it was a blow. A choice. A statement.
The Whisperer recoiled not from the strike, but from what it represented.
"You really have changed," the Whisperer said, almost admiringly. "The Hollow King will be... displeased."
"Good," Inyocha said.
The Whisperer laughed again and then exploded, darkness washing over the market in a wave.
When it cleared, the Whisperer was gone.
But Lee found something clutched in his hand a shard of black crystal, cold to the touch, pulsing with a slow, rhythmic beat.
A message, Onyx Tempest said. The Hollow King's calling card. He's marked you, Lee. You're his now.
"No," Lee said, crushing the crystal in his fist. "I'm no one's."
But the mark on his chest the spiral of black and white began to throb.
And somewhere beyond the stars, the Hollow King smiled.