After awakening the dragon blood, Nox spent several days feeling unlike himself. Something had changed in his perception of the world, and he could not figure out exactly what. Shadow obeyed him as flawlessly as ever, the dragon blood pulsed quietly somewhere deep inside, demanding no attention, but he felt he had gained something new. Some additional facet of his power that he had not yet had time to explore. The feeling was like an itching in his teeth when a new tooth was cutting through. He knew it was there, could feel it, but could not see it or understand what it would become.
The answer came unexpectedly, as often happens, not during a lecture or training, but in the silence of the catacombs, where Nox descended every night to be alone with his power. He walked the familiar corridor, the one that led to the temple, but turned off early into a side passage he had not noticed before. It was narrow and low, and Nox had to duck to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling. The air here was stale, smelling of dampness and something sour, like the smell of animal fur. He walked a little further and found himself in a small cave, clearly not part of the catacombs but a natural formation that had existed long before people built the academy here. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, stalagmites rose from the floor, and in their bizarre shadows, cast by his magical lantern, Nox saw movement.
He froze. Shadow inside him tensed instantly, ready for battle. From behind the nearest stalagmite, grinning and brandishing a jagged knife, leaped a goblin. Small, no taller than his waist, with greenish gray skin covered in warts, and eyes burning with a dull yellow light. It was dressed in scraps of some kind of leather, and its weapon, though primitive looking, was sharpened and had clearly seen many fights. The goblin shrieked, charging at Nox, and he reacted instantly. Shadow poured from his hand, took the form of a dagger, and struck the creature in the chest. The goblin wheezed, dropped its knife, and collapsed to the floor, twitching in agony. After a few seconds, it fell still.
Nox stood over the body, breathing heavily. This was the first time he had killed a living creature not to protect his own life or Lin's, but simply because it had attacked him. A strange feeling. Not guilt, not fear. Rather, an awareness that the world was simply built this way. Kill or be killed. In the slums, he had learned this rule; here, it was merely confirmed.
He was about to leave when he noticed something strange. From the goblin's body, slowly, as if reluctantly, a shadow separated. Not the ordinary shadow that objects cast in the light of a lamp. A different one. Alive. It pulsed, flickered, and had the vague outline of the very goblin that had just lain dead on the floor. Nox bent down, reached out his hand, and the shadow, obeying some unknown call, flowed toward his fingers. It felt cold to the touch and strangely… empty. Like a vessel from which the contents had been poured but which could still be filled. And at that moment, Nox understood what it was. An echo. Not a soul, not a ghost. Just an imprint of the creature, left in Shadow after its death. What remains when life departs but the form has not yet dissolved.
He closed his fingers, and the goblin's shadow obediently compressed into a small black sphere, dense and cool. Nox looked at it and felt understanding dawn within him. He could not just kill. He could take. The echoes of the creatures he defeated could become his weapons. His servants. His shadows. He concentrated, poured a little of his own Shadow into the sphere, and it began to grow, to change shape. After a few seconds, a goblin stood before him. Not alive, no. Woven from pure Shadow, black, translucent, with the same outlines as the real one. It stood motionless, looking at Nox with empty eye sockets in which there was nothing but darkness.
«Speak,» Nox commanded, not knowing if it would work.
The shadow goblin opened its mouth, and a voice emerged from it. Hissing, otherworldly, but intelligible.
«I obey, master.»
Nox felt goosebumps run down his spine. Not from fear. From the realization of what he had just done. He had created a servant. Not alive, not dead. Simply a shadow of what this goblin had once been. Obedient, willless, ready to carry out any order.
«What can you do?» he asked.
«I am an echo of what I was. I remember its skills, its habits, its weaknesses. I can fight as it fought. I can go ahead and take blows. I can scout a path and return. I feel no pain, know no fear, need no rest. I exist as long as the Shadow that created me exists.»
Nox slowly nodded. This was… incredible. He had heard of mages who could summon creatures, but they were always either spirits, or elementals, or demons. He had created a servant from the echo of a goblin he himself had killed. From the shadow left after death. This was not just Shadow magic. This was something new. Something born at the intersection of Shadow and dragon blood. He could feel it. The dragon blood inside him pulsed quietly, as if approving of what he had done. Dragons had always been lords. They did not just fight, they ruled. And now that thirst for power, that thirst for domination, had been passed to him.
«Go ahead,» he commanded. «Find other creatures in these caves. If you encounter danger, return and warn me.»
The shadow goblin nodded and silently moved deeper into the cave, merging with the darkness so completely that even Nox, a Shadow bearer, could barely discern its silhouette. He followed at a distance, feeling the invisible thread connecting them. He knew where his servant was, what it saw, what it felt. Not in words, but in images, sensations. As if the shadow goblin was an extension of his own Shadow.
After a few minutes, the servant returned and reported that ahead, in a neighboring cave, there were three more goblins. They were sleeping, huddled together around a dead fire. Their weapons lay nearby, but they were not expecting an attack. Nox nodded and moved forward. He entered the cave silently, guided by his Shadow, which muffled every step. The goblins were indeed sleeping. Three small creatures, similar to the first. They did not even wake as Nox approached. Shadow in his hand condensed into a blade, and he delivered three quick, precise strikes. The goblins died without even managing to cry out.
From each of them, like from the first, a shadow separated. Echoes. Nox gathered all three, compressed them in his palm, poured in his Shadow, and within a minute, four shadow goblins stood before him. Four silent, obedient servants, ready to carry out any order. He looked at them and felt something strange. Not joy, not pride. Rather, calm confidence. He was becoming stronger. Not only himself, but through those he defeated. Every enemy he killed could become his weapon. His shadow. His echo. This was a power Sylvana had not taught him. A power that perhaps even his father had not possessed. Because it was born from the union of Shadow and dragon blood. From his unique nature. From who he was: the last of the Endragon bloodline, heir to two ancient powers.
«You will be my scouts,» he told the servants. «You will explore the catacombs, seek out dangers, find hidden passages and caches. When I come here, you will report everything you have found. You will not attack anyone without my orders. You will not reveal yourselves to anyone but me. Understood?»
«Yes, master,» four voices answered in unison.
Nox released them, and the shadow goblins dissolved into the darkness of the catacombs, scattering in different directions. He remained alone, standing in the middle of the cave, watching them go. He could feel each of them. Knew where they were, what they were doing, what they were seeing. It was as if he had gained four additional pairs of eyes and ears, scattered throughout the underground. Four sources of information that could warn him of danger long before it approached.
He thought about what the shadow goblin had said. «I exist as long as the Shadow that created me exists.» That meant his servants were not eternal. If he died or lost his Shadow, they would disappear. Or perhaps if they were destroyed in battle, they would also vanish, and he would have to create new ones. He would need to test that. To learn the limits of his new power, its weaknesses, its cost. Because every power had a price. Sylvana had taught him that. And he was not about to forget her lessons.
He returned to the academy as dawn was breaking. Kane was still asleep in their room, and Nox quietly lay down on his bed, staring at the ceiling. Thoughts swirled in his mind about what he had learned that night. He could take the echoes of defeated creatures and turn them into his servants. This opened up enormous possibilities. Reconnaissance, sabotage, distraction, cover in battle. The more and the stronger the creatures he defeated, the stronger his servants would become. And if he ever defeated someone truly powerful… one of the Moon Goddess's hunters, for example. Or a demon. Or a dragon. His shadow army could become endless.
But with power came responsibility. He could not allow himself to use this ability recklessly. Each servant was connected to him, fed on his Shadow, and if there were too many of them, it could weaken him. He needed to find a balance. To learn his limit. And never exceed it.
He closed his eyes and fell asleep, while four pairs of invisible eyes continued to explore the catacombs, memorizing every turn, every crack, every place hidden from prying eyes. They were his echoes. His shadows. His army. And this was only the beginning.