The fog was thick, curling around us like a living thing, making it nearly impossible to see beyond a few feet in any direction. It clung to our clothes, heavy with the scent of damp earth and old stone. Every step felt like we were sinking deeper into the unknown.
Beside me, Zeke adjusted his hood, pulling it further over his face to shield himself from the cold wind that whipped through the streets. We both wore the same dark, nondescript cloaks, blending into the shadowy figures that moved silently through the grey mist. The cloak itself felt symbolic, as if it was more than just a piece of fabric—it was a statement, a surrender to the shadows we now walked in.
I kept my head down, heart racing as we made our way toward the meeting point. The fog was thick enough to hide us, but not our anxiety. This was it. The night we would step into a world we had only heard whispers about—Dicartha's Angels, the empire's black ops unit.
Black ops. Military covert missions. Spying. Assassination.
I could barely comprehend it. When Zeke first told me we were being recruited into the Angels, I had laughed. It sounded like something out of a bad fantasy story, where mysterious figures in dark cloaks carried out the will of the emperor in secret. Yet here we were, shrouded in the literal and figurative fog of Dicartha's underbelly, walking straight into the heart of this shadowy organization.
"You ready?" Zeke whispered, his voice barely audible through the heavy mist.
I nodded, though I wasn't sure if I really was. There was no turning back now.
The fog grew thicker as we approached the old clock tower where we had been told to meet. Its silhouette loomed in the distance, rising out of the mist like a jagged tooth against the night sky. The entire area felt forgotten by time, as if no one but those who belonged in the shadows ever came here.
Just as we reached the base of the tower, a figure emerged from the fog, as silent as the grave. He was cloaked like we were, his hood pulled low, but there was an aura of authority about him. His movements were precise, deliberate. A man who had seen things, done things, that most people would never dream of.
"You're late," he said, his voice gravelly but calm.
"We were followed," Zeke lied easily, the words slipping from his mouth like he'd been trained for this his whole life. I had to give him credit; he was good at playing this part.
The man gave a slow nod. "No matter. Follow me."
Without another word, he turned and began walking into the base of the tower. Zeke and I exchanged a quick glance before following him into the darkness.
Inside, the air was cold and damp. The stone walls were slick with moisture, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed from somewhere deep within. The passage was narrow, lit only by occasional flickering torches mounted on the walls. It felt like we were descending into some forgotten underworld.
After what felt like an eternity of walking, the passage opened up into a large chamber, dimly lit by several small braziers. The air was thick with the smell of burning oil and something else—something metallic. Around the room, more hooded figures stood in small groups, talking in hushed voices.
I swallowed hard. These were the Angels. Dicartha's most secretive and feared military unit. The people who carried out the will of the empire in the shadows, eliminating threats before they ever reached the light of day.
The man who had led us here turned to face us. His hood still obscured most of his face, but I could feel his eyes on me, studying me, weighing me.
"You are both here because you have shown potential," he said, his voice low and steady. "But potential is not enough. To survive as one of the Angels, you need more than just skill. You need loyalty, discretion, and an iron will. There is no room for hesitation or doubt. Do you understand?"
Zeke nodded confidently. I did too, though my heart was still pounding in my chest.
"We understand," I said, my voice firm despite the uncertainty gnawing at me.
"Good," the man said. "From now on, you are no longer civilians. You are soldiers of the shadow. Your past lives mean nothing here. You will obey without question, follow orders without hesitation, and complete your missions without fail."
He stepped closer, and I could see the glint of something metallic beneath his cloak—likely a weapon, hidden but ready.
"Your first test begins now," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You will prove your loyalty and your worth to Dicartha. If you fail, you will not leave this place."
A cold chill ran down my spine. This wasn't a recruitment. This was a trial by fire.
The man stepped back and gestured toward a side passage that led deeper into the tower. "Go," he said. "Your task awaits. Succeed, and you will be one of us. Fail, and your bodies will feed the crows."
Without another word, he turned and vanished back into the shadows.
Zeke and I exchanged a long, silent look. This was it. The point of no return.
"Well," Zeke said with a smirk, trying to lighten the mood, "at least they didn't make us sign a contract."
I chuckled despite myself. "Right. Small blessings."
Together, we walked into the passage, Dog padding quietly beside me, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. Whatever waited for us ahead, we'd face it together.
But deep down, I knew that joining the Angels meant stepping into a world of darkness that neither Zeke nor I fully understood.
We entered the grey fog with a feeling of uncertainty, something I couldn't make up or shake as a simple emotion.
I was neither scared nor brave, I was simply ready.