The first tendrils of dawn had begun to touch the sky by the time Elior returned to his quarters, an unmarked room within a crumbling stone tower on the outskirts of Nyx. The city had yet to wake, the streets outside cloaked in quiet and shadows. Only the occasional lamp glowed dimly, their warm light flickering in the chill air.
Elior closed the door behind him, and his shadow slipped in, stretching across the walls and ceiling like ink spilling into water. There was an edge to it now, an intangible but unmistakable presence. He sensed its attention, lingering on him as if waiting for a command. He would need to establish control. But not here—not in the fragile, daylight reality of his quarters.
With the first light of dawn now seeping through his window, Elior wasted no time. He crossed to his desk, piled with ancient tomes and a scattered assortment of sigils and vials. Moving with purpose, he picked up a scrap of aged parchment inscribed with a binding incantation, followed by a small glass vial of swirling silver liquid: *shadow elixir,* the extract of creatures bound to the Myrmidian realm. It was a rare and volatile substance, one that few dared to handle, let alone consume.
In the dim light, Elior took a deep breath and opened the vial, tipping a drop of the elixir onto the parchment. The silver liquid spread across the paper in a spiderweb of shimmering lines, forming intricate shapes as the Mark on his chest grew warm, sensing the alignment of its power with the ritual.
"Echoes of Myrmidia, hear me," he murmured, feeling the shadows around him bristle in response. "I summon you not as your slave but as your sovereign."
The shapes on the parchment shifted, swirling in response, as if the elixir was alive. Shadows pooled at his feet, coalescing into a shape, a small dark figure emerging slowly, unfurling like a creature waking from slumber. It was no larger than a child, but its form twisted and shifted constantly, unable to hold a single shape.
It lifted its head, two gleaming eyes set in its amorphous body, staring up at Elior with a mixture of curiosity and malice. "You bear the Mark," it hissed, its voice like gravel scraping over stone. "You seek to bind me?"
Elior's gaze remained steady. "I seek an ally."
The creature's eyes narrowed, flickering with an unreadable expression. "An ally? Shadows know no loyalty, no kinship. We are born of the void. We consume. We haunt."
"You are born of the void," Elior agreed, voice unwavering, "but I am bound to Myrmidia by choice. With my will, I can shape you, command you. If you accept my pact, you will share in my dominion, protected from the exile that claims the lost shadows."
The creature regarded him in silence, its shifting form pulsating as it considered his offer. Elior could feel the tension in the air, the instinctive rebellion simmering beneath its surface. Yet he also sensed something else—a grudging respect for his audacity, his willingness to face the Myrmidian realm on its own terms.
"Your kind are born weak," it hissed, yet there was no malice, only resignation. "But you have the Key. You have crossed the threshold. I will yield to you... if you can prove your strength."
The creature lunged forward without warning, its form elongating into jagged tendrils that struck toward Elior with blinding speed. He reacted instantly, the Mark on his chest flaring to life, releasing a dark aura that pushed back against the shadow's attack. The room was suddenly filled with an intense, crackling energy as Elior and the creature grappled for dominance, the elixir's effects igniting the air with silver sparks.
But Elior had prepared. He forced his will through the Mark, feeling its power channel into his body, reinforcing his resolve. With a surge of concentrated thought, he twisted the energy around him, drawing the creature closer, binding it tighter, feeling its resistance waver under the pressure of his unyielding command.
"Submit!" he commanded, his voice ringing with the authority of the Echo Sovereign.
The creature stilled, its form collapsing into itself, beaten into submission by the weight of Elior's will. He could feel its reluctance, its simmering resentment, yet it no longer resisted him. It was his, bound by the pact that bridged their worlds.
The shadow's form began to settle, shrinking and condensing into a smaller, more defined shape—a sleek, dark entity, catlike in appearance, with eyes that gleamed like molten silver. It blinked up at him, its expression one of wariness tempered by a grudging acceptance.
"You have bound me," it said, its voice softer now, yet still carrying an edge of defiance. "I am yours, Echo Sovereign."
Elior let out a slow breath, feeling the strain of the binding ease. He nodded, satisfied. "I will call you Kael."
The creature, now Kael, flicked its tail and looked away, pride still evident in the set of its form. "Very well... Kael. But remember this, Echo Sovereign—I will serve you, but I will never be tamed."
Elior allowed himself a faint smile, knowing that the creature's defiance was a part of its nature. Myrmidia's shadows were not loyal by design, nor did they follow out of duty. They were allies by necessity, bound only by strength and mutual purpose.
"Stay by my side," Elior instructed, his voice calm but firm. "Our work is far from done."
Kael nodded silently, its silver eyes narrowing as it sensed the subtle shifts in the room, as if it, too, felt the secrets that lingered in the walls, the shadows that watched and waited.
Just then, a faint knock sounded on his door, snapping Elior back to the present. He extinguished the energy around him, allowing the lingering shadows to melt into the corners. Kael's form shifted, seamlessly blending into Elior's own shadow, as if it had always been there.
Elior straightened himself, schooling his expression into one of practiced neutrality. He opened the door to find Joren, one of the Tethered and a fellow member of the Nyx Watchers, standing there, his face as solemn as ever.
"Elior," Joren greeted, his eyes darting briefly around the room, likely sensing the faint traces of dark energy. "You've been summoned. The Elders have requested your presence in the Hall of Reflections."
Elior nodded, feigning nonchalance. "What is it this time?"
"They claim they've received word of a disturbance beyond the wall—a rift between realms." Joren's voice was grave. "The Elders believe it's linked to the Myrmidian power. They want us ready for deployment by dusk."
Elior's heart skipped a beat, though he kept his face impassive. A rift between realms meant a breach in the boundaries of the shadow domain, a rare occurrence that could destabilize everything he had fought to control. If he was going to survive this, he would need Kael's power—and more. Myrmidia itself was shifting, and his growing influence was bound to draw attention.
"I'll be ready," Elior replied, his voice steady.
Joren hesitated, eyeing him with an inscrutable expression. "Careful, Elior. The shadows may whisper, but they rarely lie. Whatever you're playing at, I hope you know what you're risking."
Elior offered a faint, enigmatic smile. "I always know the risk, Joren."
As Joren departed, Elior closed the door and looked down at his shadow, where Kael's silver eyes glinted back at him, gleaming with dark amusement.
"Seems like you have plans for me already," Kael murmured, its voice resonating within Elior's mind.
He nodded, an intense gleam in his eyes. "You're more perceptive than you let on, Kael. Let's see if Myrmidia is truly as powerful as it claims."
The shadows around him thickened, drawn to his will, and for the first time, he felt the weight of the Echo Sovereign's true power. As he prepared himself for the coming storm, Elior knew he would not walk alone.
For he had bound not only the shadows of Myrmidia, but the whispers of something far older, something that would test the very fabric of his soul.