The cavern beneath the mountains was deathly silent.
Here, the torches burned without smoke, fed by oil made of memory and magic. Every stone underfoot was etched with worn runes, some barely visible, some still pulsing with faint light. The deeper Aisu walked into the heart of the hollow mountain, the more he felt his name unravel.
This place had no need for names.
He wasn't the boy from Colva. Not anymore.
He was one of them now.
---
"Again."
Aisu spun, sweat slicking his brow as he raised his guard too late.
Raik's fist collided with his ribs.
The air fled Aisu's lungs as he tumbled backward, crashing hard against the stone floor. He coughed, spat blood, and barely managed to rise to one knee.
Raik Elsen stood over him, arms crossed, lightning crackling lazily around his knuckles. His eyes were bright and merciless. "Come on. Get up. Or did the village brat finally break?"
Aisu growled but stayed kneeling.
In the corner of the hall, Serei Valen leaned against the wall, silent and unreadable as always. Her cloak hid half her face in shadow, but her eyes tracked every movement. Every bruise Aisu took. Every flash of effort.
Raik glanced her way and smirked. "He's tough, I'll give him that. But tough doesn't mean trained."
"Your mouth moves more than your feet," Serei said, not looking at him.
The smirk flickered. "Still watching, are you?"
Serei didn't answer.
Raik turned back to Aisu, rolling his shoulders. "On your feet."
---
The training went on for days that blurred into pain and silence.
Lyn Halbrecht, with her hawk-like eyes and clipped voice, broke Aisu down one motion at a time. Every footfall, every breath, every misplaced ounce of weight—corrected without mercy.
Varun, the tall, scarred instructor, made him sprint through illusions of fire and stone, teaching him to master fear by drowning in it. "If you can't walk through your memories," he told Aisu, "you'll never survive the world's."
And Serei... she said little. But when Aisu faltered, she stepped in. Her strikes were cold and swift, and each blow taught a lesson that her words never would.
"You're too loud," she said after their fourth sparring match.
"I didn't say anything," Aisu muttered, catching his breath.
"Your breathing did."
---
On the seventh night, they were summoned.
Down into the ancient chamber they went, where the torches burned blue and the pillars bore the symbols of empires long turned to ash.
At the center stood Varun, hands behind his back.
Beside him, waiting, was a woman wrapped in layers of grey—neither armor nor robe, but something in between. Her long white hair flowed behind her, and a silver blindfold covered her eyes.
Yet her gaze felt sharper than sight.
When she stepped forward, the room itself seemed to hold its breath.
"Aisu Erlic," she said softly. "Son of the fallen. Child of fire."
Aisu stared at her, the hairs on his neck rising.
"You… know my name?"
"I know your pain," she replied. "And your silence."
She turned to the gathered members—Raik, Serei, Lyn, and the others.
"This is the truth we serve," she said. "We are the knife behind the crown, the whisper after the lie. We are not rebels. We are the memory of what the world tried to forget."
Her voice sharpened.
"We are Noctis Sanctum."
A hum ran through the chamber, ancient and real. Like stone remembering thunder.
"We do not swear loyalty to thrones. We do not bleed for flags. We do not speak justice—we become it."
She raised her hand and placed something into Aisu's.
A cloth. Black, soft as breath. Embroidered in silver was a single rune: Balance.
"When this burns," she said, "your first trial begins."
Aisu held it tightly, his hands trembling.
"Who… are you?" he whispered.
She smiled faintly. "I am Caelen Voris. Matron of the Sanctum. And the last voice of the forgotten."
---
Later that night, Aisu sat alone beside a dim lantern in the stone meditation alcove, his limbs aching and his soul even more so.
Footsteps approached.
Serei sat beside him without a word, setting her curved blade gently across her lap.
"You still shake," she said.
"I'm not used to this," Aisu muttered. "I'm not like the rest of you."
"You think we were born for this?" she asked, voice soft.
Aisu looked at her.
She didn't smile. But there was something in her eyes—something rare.
"You survived," she said. "That's more than most."
From behind the pillars, Raik watched them, unseen.
His lightning sparked once, then died.