Light hurt.
It was the first thing Kael noticed as he crossed the rift between the abyss and the world above. Not pain in the way the forging had been pain—this was sharper, cleaner, almost insulting in its simplicity. His eyes burned as pale radiance spilled over him, forcing him to squint and turn his face away.
So bright.
So fragile.
The abyss behind him did not resist his departure. The shadows parted silently, closing in on themselves as the rift narrowed. For a brief moment, Kael felt the familiar pressure linger at his back—watchful, patient—before it receded entirely.
The rift sealed.
Kael staggered forward and fell to one knee.
Cold earth pressed against his palm. Real earth. Damp, uneven, alive with the faint pulse of insects and roots beneath the surface. The air smelled of moss and decaying leaves instead of iron and shadow.
He breathed deeply.
The world felt… loud.
Every sound struck him at once—the rustle of leaves, the distant call of a night bird, the subtle shift of his own clothing as he moved. His senses recoiled instinctively, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of information.
Kael clenched his jaw and forced himself to stay grounded.
Adapt, he told himself.
Slowly, deliberately, he regulated his breathing. The sharp edge of his perception dulled, compressing into something manageable. Sounds separated into layers. Smells organized themselves. The world stopped screaming and began to make sense again.
Only then did he lift his head.
He was in a forest.
Tall, twisted trees surrounded him, their branches knotted together overhead like grasping hands. Moonlight filtered through gaps in the canopy, casting broken silver patterns across the forest floor. The air was cool, heavy with mist.
Kael recognized the place instantly.
The Blackroot Woods.
A borderland forest near Vireon territory—avoided by common folk, patrolled only lightly by clan forces. A place where exiles disappeared and monsters were rumored to roam.
Fitting.
Kael pushed himself to his feet.
His body felt heavier than before, but not sluggish. Every movement carried weight and certainty, as though his center of gravity had sunk deeper into himself. He rolled his shoulders once, testing his range of motion.
Perfect.
Too perfect.
He glanced down at his arms. In the moonlight, faint dark lines were visible beneath his skin, running along muscle and bone before fading. When he focused on them, they pulsed once—then went still.
Nightforged.
Kael closed his eyes briefly.
He could still feel it—the oath. Not as a voice or command, but as a presence woven into his blood. Quiet. Waiting. Responsive.
Not now, he thought.
The shadow did not stir.
Good.
Kael took a cautious step forward.
The forest reacted immediately.
A rabbit froze several paces away, its ears twitching as it sensed him. A pair of insects went silent. Even the wind seemed to hesitate, as if uncertain whether he belonged.
Kael stopped.
He had not released killing intent. He had not drawn power. And yet—
They feel me.
Understanding dawned slowly.
The abyss had not merely strengthened him. It had changed the way the world perceived him. He was no longer just another presence moving through the forest. He was noticeable.
That could not continue.
Kael slowed his breathing, deliberately relaxing his posture. He imagined drawing the shadow inward, compressing it until it lay dormant beneath his skin.
The forest eased.
The rabbit fled. The insects resumed their quiet chorus. The wind stirred the leaves once more.
Kael exhaled.
"So this is part of the cost," he murmured. "Learning how to exist again."
A faint, distant pressure brushed against his awareness.
Not the abyss.
Something else.
Kael's head snapped up.
He focused, extending his senses cautiously. The forest unfolded before him in layers of depth and distance. Heat signatures flickered faintly in his perception—living things moving through the underbrush.
Three figures.
Human.
Armed.
They were approaching from the east, moving carefully but without the discipline of trained scouts. Their heartbeats were fast. Uneven.
Bandits.
Kael frowned.
Ordinarily, he would have avoided them. Tonight, however, his path led straight through their territory.
He considered his options.
Flight was easy. He could vanish into the forest without leaving a trace. His body was capable of it now—he felt that certainty deep in his bones.
But something inside him resisted the idea.
Not pride.
Assessment.
I need to know, Kael realized.
He needed to know what he was capable of now—without drawing deeply on the oath. Without letting the shadow take over.
Footsteps drew closer.
Kael stepped into a patch of moonlight deliberately.
The figures froze.
Three men emerged from the trees, weapons half-raised. Leather armor. Rusted blades. The stench of fear and desperation clung to them.
"Oi," one of them said, voice rough. "You lost, friend?"
Kael met his gaze calmly.
"No," he replied. "I'm passing through."
The bandits exchanged glances.
Passing through Blackroot Woods alone, unarmed, at night.
Suspicion turned quickly into greed.
"Bad place to wander," another man said, grinning nervously. "Real dangerous."
"I'm aware," Kael said.
The first man stepped forward.
"Hand over anything valuable," he said. "And we might let you walk away."
Kael tilted his head slightly.
He felt the shadow stir at the edges of his awareness, eager but restrained. He ignored it.
Instead, he took a single step forward.
The ground crunched softly beneath his foot.
The bandit flinched.
Kael saw it clearly—the spike in heart rate, the involuntary tightening of grip. Fear, raw and immediate.
Interesting.
"I don't want trouble," Kael said evenly. "Move aside."
The leader hesitated.
Pride won.
"Get him."
The man lunged.
Kael moved.
There was no conscious thought, no invocation of power. His body simply responded. He sidestepped the clumsy swing, seized the attacker's wrist, and twisted.
Bone cracked.
The scream was cut short as Kael struck the man's throat with precise force, dropping him instantly.
The other two froze in shock.
Kael turned toward them slowly.
Their weapons trembled.
"Leave," he said.
They didn't argue.
They ran.
Kael stood alone once more, the forest slowly settling back into uneasy silence.
He looked down at his hand.
No shadow clung to it.
No dark mist stirred.
And yet… the result had been decisive.
Kael closed his fingers slowly.
"So," he murmured, "this is the baseline now."
Kael remained still for a long moment, listening to the forest breathe.
The bandits' footsteps faded completely, swallowed by distance and fear. In their place came softer sounds—the scrape of bark as branches shifted, the quiet scuttle of small creatures returning to their paths. The woods were cautious, but no longer alarmed.
He exhaled slowly.
The encounter had been brief. Efficient. Too efficient.
Kael replayed it in his mind, dissecting every movement. He had not drawn on the oath. He had not summoned shadow. And yet his body had reacted with speed and precision he had never possessed before. The margin for error—the hesitation he once relied on instinctively—had vanished.
Nightforged, he thought.
Strength without spectacle. Control without ceremony.
That realization unsettled him more than raw power ever could.
Kael flexed his fingers again, this time deliberately slowing the motion. He focused on the sensation of muscle and tendon, grounding himself in the physical reality of his body. The shadow remained dormant, compressed beneath his skin like a held breath.
Good.
He took a step, then another, testing his pace. Leaves crunched softly beneath his boots. The forest did not recoil this time. Whatever he had done to draw attention before, he was learning how to quiet it.
But learning came with friction.
As he moved, a faint pressure brushed the edge of his awareness—subtle, persistent. Not the abyss's watchful presence, but the oath itself. It did not demand. It waited. Patient. Confident.
Kael frowned.
"So that's how it is," he murmured. "You don't push. You tempt."
The pressure did not deny it.
Kael's jaw tightened. He adjusted his posture, shoulders loosening, breath slowing until the pulse within his veins steadied. The pressure receded slightly, acknowledging the restraint.
He nodded once.
Not yet.
He continued through the woods, choosing a path that angled away from the bandits' route and toward the low hills beyond. Dawn was still hours away, but the sky had begun to lighten imperceptibly, the promise of morning hidden behind clouds.
With daylight would come patrols.
Questions.
Names spoken softly, then aloud.
Kael's expression hardened.
The world would not recognize him—not as he was now. And he had no intention of offering explanations. For the moment, anonymity was not a weakness. It was a shield.
He pulled his cloak tighter around himself and moved on, footsteps steady, presence muted.
Behind him, the forest closed ranks.
Ahead, the empire waited—unaware that one of its quiet erasures had already learned how to walk back into the light without breaking.
Above him, unseen and unheard, the world continued turning.
Below him, buried deep within his blood, the Shadow Oath waited—patient, watchful, ready for the moment restraint would no longer be enough.