The throne room of Veridale was colder than Kael remembered. Marble pillars reached toward the vaulted ceiling like ribs of a dead giant. King Elric sat on his elevated dais, the morning light catching the silver filigree of his crown.Kael stood several paces back, flanked by Reyna and Ember. Darius was already there: stone-faced, his hands clasped behind his back.The King’s voice cut through the stillness. “You’ve brought a report. Speak.”Darius inclined his head. “We discovered Stormhaven weapons hidden beneath one of our outposts. Sealed crates, all carrying the crest.”The King’s brow furrowed. “Impossible. Our treaties with Stormhaven forbid…”“Treaties don’t stop smugglers,” Archon interrupted, stepping from the side of the dais. His presence filled the room like a shadow drawn long. “I’ve already reviewed the logistics manifest. It’s plausible, an outdated supply run.”Kael’s voice came before he thought to stop it. “Th

The archives were near silent at dawn. Dust hung in the air like faint fog, each particle lit by the soft flame of a single lamp on Kael’s desk. He’d been awake since before the bell, bent over Darius’s coded notebook, a half-empty mug of bitter draught cooling beside him.The door creaked once. Footsteps.Kyna slipped in, hood still drawn from the morning mist.“You’re early,” Kael said without looking up.“So are you.” She pulled a folded parchment from inside her coat and laid it on the table. “This came through the lower couriers an hour ago. From one of my mother’s contacts.”Kael raised a brow. “The same network that flagged House Varion’s shipments?”“Not exactly.” She slid the parchment closer. “This contact’s higher. Embedded somewhere near the Council ledgers.”“Risky.”Kyna gave a small shrug. “Everything worth knowing usually is.”He unfolded the parchment. The handwriting was neat, deliberate, a

The arena gates slammed shut with a metallic roar. Dust settled slowly across the training field.Kael adjusted his gauntlets, feeling the low vibration of energy at his wrists. Across from him, Jared rolled his shoulders, smirking as though this were sport and not a career-defining test.Darius’s voice cut through the intercom.“This evaluation is not about winning. It’s about cohesion. Remember that.”“Cohesion,” Jared muttered under his breath. “Right.”Reyna shot him a glare. “Don’t start.”“Start?” Jared grinned. “I’m not the one who almost nuked the training chamber last time.”Kael ignored him, scanning the terrain. “We stick to formation. Kyna, you shadow left. Reyna, cover the high wall. I’ll anchor the Rift output. Jared..m”“...Leads,” Jared interrupted. “We both know I’m faster at taking the initiative.”Kael’s voice cooled. “You mean ignoring orders?”“Orders slow us down.”Reyna stepped between them. “Stop it. We don’t have time for this.”The horn blared, cutting the ar

The first explosion shattered the dawn.The barracks doors blew open, smoke rushing in. Kael jolted awake, rolling off his bunk as shards of glass rained from the ceiling.“Everyone up!” Reyna shouted, already pulling her boots on. “This isn’t a drill!”Another blast rippled through the south wing, then a scream.Kyna burst through the doorway, blade drawn, eyes wide. “They’re inside! Corpsmen…our own! They’re wearing the Shadow Corps insignia!”Kael grabbed his gear. “What do you mean, our own?”“Traitors!” Kyna hissed. “They’re cutting down cadets!”The air outside burned orange. Flames climbed the walls, shadows twisting across the courtyard as figures clashed: familiar uniforms, familiar faces, now painted with blood.Reyna pushed past Kael. “Squad formation! Move!”They hit the courtyard as Drax dragged a wounded cadet behind a wall.He looked up, face streaked with soot. “Rebels? No. Thes

Gleaming marble stretched from the gilded doors to the obsidian throne where King Elric sat, straight-backed and distant. The black on silver banners of the Shadow Corps normally used during such grand events hung behind him, each stitched with the insignia of a single blade. The scent of oil and steel lingered in the air, masking the faint trace of blood that time couldn’t wash away.The hall was full. Officers, nobles, foreign delegates, and every other notable person, each murmuring about the “heroism” of Darius’s cadets. But Kael heard the lie beneath every word. The attack hadn’t been heroism. It had been betrayal, plainly put.Archon stood to the King’s right, dressed in ceremonial armour. His expression looked like he was carved from stone, filled with pride without warmth. When his eyes brushed Kael, they were cold and assessing, the look of a man measuring how much longer a blade would stay sharp.“Step forward, the new shadows of Veridale.” Archo