The darkness of the catacombs thickened with every step. Nox walked deeper, to where he had never ventured during his night training, and felt the air around him change. It grew heavier, denser, as if reality itself was older here and resisted the intrusion of a stranger. The magical lanterns he had thoughtfully brought with him gave off very little light, their glow seemingly absorbed by the walls, never reflecting. The shadows here were different. Not the ones he was used to. They did not move, did not react to his presence, but simply lay, heavy and motionless, like centuries old dust. And in their depths, Nox felt something he could not name. Not a threat. Rather, an expectation. As if the very stones were waiting for someone to walk this path.
He passed several forks, choosing the direction not so much from memory as from instinct. The dragon blood inside him, not yet fully awakened but already perceptible, pulled him forward like an invisible thread attached to his solar plexus. He trusted it and was not wrong. After half an hour of wandering through narrow, crumbling corridors, he reached a door. It was enormous, taller than the academy gates, carved from a single piece of black stone that seemed to absorb even the scant light from his lanterns. On the door's surface were carved two symbols, intertwined in a complex, mesmerizing pattern. The Shadow Dragon coiled in a ring, the crest of his bloodline, and another symbol that Nox did not recognize immediately. When he did, his heart skipped a beat. An eye surrounded by a spiral of darkness. The symbol of the Lord of Shadows. The very god the Moon Goddess had betrayed and imprisoned, whose power she had stolen and divided. The one whose heir, unwillingly, Nox had become.
«A temple dedicated to both the Lord of Shadows and the God of Dragons,» he whispered, remembering the dragon's words from the vision. «So I have arrived.»
He reached out and touched the door. The stone was cold as ice, and beneath his fingers, the symbols began to glow. Not brightly, but faintly, barely noticeably, like embers in a nearly extinguished fire. But it was enough. The door shuddered and began to open, slowly, with a grinding sound that made Nox's ears ring. From the opening came air that smelled not of dust and mold, like everything else, but of something else. Ancient. Alive. As if time had stopped behind this door centuries ago and had not moved since.
He stepped inside.
The hall that opened before him was enormous. Nox could not see its boundaries, for the walls disappeared into darkness, but he felt that the space around him stretched far in all directions. The floor was laid with black slabs, smooth as a mirror, reflecting a light that came from no apparent source. Dim and silvery, it spread through the hall with no visible origin, and in this light, everything seemed ghostly, unreal. In the center of the hall stood two altars. One, on the left, was carved from the same black stone as the door, and on its peak burned a cold, silvery fire that gave no warmth. Above it hovered the symbol of the Lord of Shadows, the Eye in the spiral of darkness, and from it emanated a power that Nox felt immediately. Shadow inside him responded to that power, reached toward it like a plant reaching for the sun. The second altar, on the right, was different. It was carved from stone that seemed to glow from within with a crimson, living light. On its peak burned a fire, hot and real, and above it hovered the symbol of the Shadow Dragon. From this altar emanated a power that Nox felt not with Shadow but with something else. Blood. Dragon blood, which had begun to awaken in him after his encounter with the Harbinger.
«You have come.»
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once. Low, vibrating, it filled the hall, and Nox felt it not with his ears but with his entire body, every cell. From the darkness surrounding the altars, two figures emerged. They were woven from shadows, but not the ordinary ones Nox was used to seeing and controlling. These shadows were ancient, dense, and in their depths burned eyes. One figure had silvery, cold eyes, like the light of the first altar. The other had crimson, hot eyes, like the fire of the second.
«You have come for power,» said the first figure, the one with silvery eyes. Its voice was like the rustle of wings, like a whisper in an empty corridor. «You carry Shadow, and Shadow has recognized you. But the power you seek is not given freely. You must prove yourself worthy.»
«You have come for blood,» said the second figure, the one with crimson eyes. Its voice was like the rumble of a distant volcano, like the roar of flames devouring a forest. «In your veins flows the blood of dragons, but it sleeps. To awaken it, you must pass a trial. The trial of pain. The trial of truth. The trial of choice.»
Nox stood between the two altars, looking at the two guardians woven from shadows. He felt no fear. Only cold, focused determination. He knew why he had come here. He knew the path back was cut off. And he was ready.
«I am ready,» he said. «Begin.»
The guardians exchanged glances. Something like approval seemed to flicker across their ethereal faces. Then the hall around Nox changed. The darkness surrounding the altars began to move. It thickened, condensed, and suddenly surged forward, engulfing Nox completely. He did not even have time to inhale before he found himself in another place. Or perhaps another time. Because what he saw could not be happening here and now.
He stood on a battlefield. The sky above was crimson from the sunset and from the fires burning everywhere. The ground beneath his feet was littered with bodies, people in armor on which Nox recognized with horror the crest of his bloodline. The Shadow Dragon. They were dead. All of them. Dozens, hundreds of people bearing that crest lay on the blood soaked earth, their glassy eyes staring at the sky. In the center of the field, on a small rise, stood a man. Tall, broad shouldered, with dark hair and a face Nox had only seen in visions. Dorian Endragon. His father. He was wounded, blood seeping from numerous cuts on his body, but he stood. And in his hands burned Bloodshadow, the hybrid of Blood and Shadow that Sylvana had spoken of. Across from him, floating in the air, hung a woman. Beautiful and terrifying at once, her skin glowing with moonlight, her eyes holding nothing but emptiness and triumph. The Moon Goddess.
«You have lost, Dorian,» she said, her voice like the ring of crystal, like the scrape of ice. «Your bloodline is destroyed. Your warriors are dead. Your wife tried to flee with the children, but my hunters will find her. You are alone. Surrender. Give me your Shadow, and perhaps I will spare your life. You will serve me, as others serve. Forever.»
Nox's father raised his head and looked at the goddess. In his eyes, gray like Lin's, there was no fear, no doubt. Only the cold, calm determination of a man who had already decided everything for himself.
«You can kill me, Selene. You can destroy my bloodline. You can erase our name from the memory of the world. But you will never have my Shadow. And my children, wherever they are, will never serve you. Because in their veins flows not only Shadow. In them flows dragon blood. And one day, they will return. And finish what I could not.»
The Moon Goddess laughed. Her laughter was beautiful and terrible, like the moon itself on a starless night.
«Fool. Your children will die in the slums, forgotten by all. No one will find them, no one will teach them, no one will save them. Your bloodline will vanish, like hundreds before it. And I will live forever, gathering Shadow bit by bit, until I become the true goddess of that power. Farewell, Dorian Endragon. You were a worthy opponent. But not strong enough.»
She waved her hand, and Shadow, obedient to her, struck the father. He tried to defend himself, raised Bloodshadow, but the forces were too unequal. The blow pierced his defense, and Nox saw his father fall to his knees, blood flowing from his mouth, the light fading from his gray eyes. And at that moment, before the vision disappeared, his father turned his head and looked directly at Nox. Through time. Through space. Through death itself.
«Nox. My son. Do not forget. In your blood lies power. Not only Shadow. Dragon blood. Awaken it. And avenge us all.»
The vision faded. Nox stood again in the hall between the two altars, and the shadow guardians looked at him. He was breathing heavily, tears streaming down his face, tears he did not even try to hold back. He had just seen his father's death. Seen the Moon Goddess kill him, laughing. And in his chest, where there had only been emptiness and unanswered questions, now burned a cold, fierce fire. A thirst for revenge.
«You have seen the past,» said the first guardian. «What was taken from you. What you must remember.»
«You feel pain,» said the second guardian. «The pain of loss. The pain of hatred. That is fuel for the dragon blood. It feeds on strong emotions. Remember this.»
Nox wiped his tears and looked at the guardians. There was no longer doubt or fear in his eyes. Only determination.
«What next?» he asked.
«Next is choice,» the guardians answered in unison. «You stand between two altars. Between Shadow and Dragon Blood. You may choose one path. Deepen your connection to Shadow, become a true bearer capable of rivaling the Goddess's hunters. Or awaken the dragon blood, accept the heritage of your ancestors, become what they were. The choice is yours. But know this: choosing one will forever change the other. Shadow and Dragon Blood can coexist, but one will always be dominant. Decide.»
Nox looked at the left altar, with its cold silvery fire and the symbol of the Lord of Shadows. Shadow had been his power since that day in the tunnels beneath Ravnes. It had saved him, protected him, given him the ability to fight. It was part of him, as integral as breathing. But it was also what the Moon Goddess hunted. What she wanted to take. He looked at the right altar, with its hot crimson fire and the symbol of the Shadow Dragon. Dragon blood was the heritage of his bloodline. What made the Endragons special. What gave them the power to defy gods. What his father had spoken of before dying. «In your blood lies power. Not only Shadow. Dragon blood. Awaken it.»
And he made his choice. He walked to the right altar and placed both hands upon it. The stone was hot, almost burning, and a wave of heat ran through Nox's veins at the touch. The dragon blood inside him responded, reached toward that warmth, and Nox felt something inside him change. Not break, not disappear. Simply become… greater. Deeper. More ancient. He closed his eyes and allowed the altar's fire to enter him. The pain was unbearable. As if his blood was boiling in his veins, as if his bones were melting and reforming. He clenched his teeth but made no sound. He thought of his father, dying on the battlefield. Of his mother, whom he barely remembered. Of Lin, waiting for him at Marta's tavern. Of Sylvana, who had sacrificed herself so they could escape. Of everyone the Moon Goddess had taken from him. This pain was nothing compared to what they had endured. He would endure. He had to.
An eternity passed. Or a few seconds. Nox did not know. But at some point, the pain began to recede, replaced by warmth. Deep, steady, soothing warmth that spread throughout his body. He opened his eyes and saw that his hands, resting on the altar, had changed. On his skin, where there had only been scars and dirt, thin, barely visible scales had emerged. Not real scales, but rather shadows of scales, tinged crimson in the altar's light. They pulsed in time with his heart and slowly faded, drawing back beneath his skin. But he knew they were there. And that they were now part of him forever.
«You have made your choice,» the guardians said. «The dragon blood has been awakened. Your Shadow will remain with you, but now it will be different. Stronger. Deeper. Bound to your bloodline's heritage. Guard this gift, Nox Endragon. And remember: a dragon's true power lies not in fire or claws. It lies in will. In the ability to go to the end, no matter what. You have proven you possess that will. Now go. And return when you are ready for the next trial. There will be two more. And each will be harder than the last.»
Nox removed his hands from the altar and stepped back. He felt… different. Not physically stronger, though his body seemed lighter and more responsive. Something had changed inside him. In his perception of the world. Shadow was still there, along his spine, alive and obedient. But now behind it, like a second layer, he felt the dragon blood. Hot, ancient, patient. It did not surge outward, did not demand action. It simply was. And waited. Waited for him to be ready to use it.
He turned and walked toward the exit. Behind him, the altars slowly faded, sinking into darkness, and the guardians dissolved, returning to the shadows from which they had been woven. The temple became again abandoned, ancient, sleeping. But now Nox knew it was here. And that he would return.
The journey back through the catacombs took less time, as if the walls themselves now recognized him and helped him find the way. He emerged into the basement of the east wing as dawn was breaking outside the windows. The academy was quiet, everyone still asleep. Nox made it to his room, collapsed onto the bed, and closed his eyes. Sleep came instantly, deep and dreamless. He had taken the first step on the dragon's path. And now that path led him forward. Toward new trials, new enemies, and new friends. Toward the day he would meet the Moon Goddess face to face and finish what his father had not.