Uncle Teiro was waiting for them at the Drenlin airdocks.

There was a drizzle as dark clouds rumbled overhead. The construct in the corner of Caen’s vision marked the time to be 10 at night. All holding umbrellas, they made their way across the grassy field, hauling their bags.

Caen had been keeping track of all the cords of connection stretching out from him. Few vanished when he moved out of range, or appeared when he came into range.

As Caen walked, he noticed a new cord of connection, stretching from him to the ground where his dim shadow trailed.

Through Soul-sense, he was cognizant of the souls around him, both human and otherwise. The critter in the grass, the worms wriggling deep in the dirt below. And yet, he couldn’t sense what this cord was tied to.

This tended to be the case for objects, but this cord was tethered to his shadow.

Not wanting to frighten his family members or reveal his awareness to whatever this might be, Caen extended his existence to Sh’kteiro, who still stood a fair distance away. He hadn’t improved as much as he would have preferred, but he suspected that his uncle wouldn’t struggle to understand him.

“Uncle Teiro, it’s me, Caen. I’m not sure what’s going on, but I think there’s something in my… shadow.”

Sh’kteiro blinked in surprise but adapted quickly. “Let me have a look,” he sent back, not at all struggling to communicate his intent through their connection.

He connected to Hshnol, who was carrying Vai’s coffin, and communicated the same thing to the Vedul man.

Both Percipients scoured Caen’s vicinity and could find nothing there. Nothing in his shadow, in the ground, or around him. In that time, their group had reached Sh’kteiro. Through Soul-sense, Caen could feel the weight of Uncle Teiro’s and Hshnol’s auras on his.

What could avoid the senses of two Percipients? Caen dispersed his mounting anxiety with a Dream-guarding spell.

“Listen,” Sh’kteiro told Caen in Olden Vishic, and Caen immediately connected to the man.

“It would seem that someone is trying to track you,”

Sh’kteiro continued through their connection. “I’m taking counter-divination measures.”

“Do you think it might have something to do with what’s hiding in my shadow?”

“Possibly,” Sh’kteiro replied.

They’d planned to spend the night in an inn here in Eastway, but those plans would have to change. He communicated this to Hshnol through Soul-sense and to Vensha and Zeris using his spirit tendrils.

There’s an abandoned barn a few miles from here, Vensha sent back to him. Go there. I’ll grab the others.

After determining the directions, he conveyed the new plan to Hshnol and Sh’kteiro.

“I have some errands to run with Ar’Caen,” Hshnol told Vensha to the hearing of their tag-alongs, Gruff and Sharp. “I will leave Master Vai in your care.”

Vensha nodded. “Alright, let’s get out of the rain,” she called.

Worry flashed through his family members’ eyes, but Zeris had conveyed some information to all of them. Gruff and Sharp didn’t seem to think anything of it, so they followed Vensha and the others.

Caen kept a portion of his attention on the cord linked to his shadow as he and the two Percipients made their way towards the barn that Vensha had directed them to.

The mercenaries were in the very same inn that they’d intended to spend the night. After securing Vai’s coffin, Vensha would sneak Zeris out of the inn, retrieve the mercenaries, gather her party members, and head down to the barn.

It was a dilapidated structure of rotten wood. Creepers and moss crawled all over its frame, and the grass on the ground was overgrown. Caen easily cleared the latter with a few Flora spells. There was enough of the roof left to keep out most of the rain, however. There were small animals here, lots of rats and scavenger insects, though Caen ignored them.

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“I’ll put up some messages in Klakalk,” he said aloud, already taking materials out of his bag.

Using tyrr ink, he painted glyphs on the driest portions of the walls and on the wet ground.

‘Communicate now. Come and speak. Ready to communicate’

Caen had spread Chasma to cover his body from the neck down. He’d slept through the air ride and had even managed to store some sleep, but even if that hadn’t been the case, he’d still be very alert.

They all stood there, waiting. About an hour later, Vensha had returned with her party, Zeris, and the group of mercenaries.

Sormot, the leader of the mercenaries, was a Percipient. It was apparent from the weight of her soul. She wore dark silver plate armor inscribed with Vedul script and held a bident in her hand; it resembled a pitchfork. The three other mercenaries—all peak Attuners—were similarly outfitted, though they wielded different tools.

Vensha had only managed to gather two of her party members. She hadn’t been able to find the other three. Amni, who held a large shield, winked at Caen. Mafrolem had a ridiculously large basket strapped to his back, his fragment shaped into a breastplate overlaying his armor.

Zeris was decked in the heavily enchanted scale armor that their great-grandmother had gifted her on the island.

“And now, we wait,” Sormot said in heavily accented Thermish.

All three Percipients had retracted their auras to an extent. Everyone was inside the barn, leaning against a wall, sitting, or just standing. Caen kept a portion of his attention on that cord linking him to his shadow.

Another hour passed with nothing happening.

“Cae—” Sh’kteiro began.

One moment, Caen was sitting with his back to a wall; the next, he was pulled into a world of pure darkness.

Something large and blacker than night loomed powerfully before him, almost blending with the darkened vicinity.

A shadeling.

It had the vague outline of a fox, no discernible eyes, and its barely visible tails writhed in the darkness behind it.

The weight of its presence was immense… but… waning.

Chasma immediately covered Caen’s head with holes for sight and breathing. Caen’s heart thudded in his chest.

His mind immediately went to the seven tails he’d seen in Redshadow half a year ago.

The messages that had been left behind for him didn’t seem as though they’d come from something powerful. Caen had gone over the glyphs with Rithya, too, and she’d come to the same conclusion. Had they been mistaken?

Whispers echoed from different directions. The words were in Klakalk, and though it took Caen a few seconds to decipher their meaning, he was surprised at how clear the communication was. He’d been supposing that he would have to draw glyphs rather than use speech.

“You were away for a long time,” the shadeling said.

Even now, that waning of this creature’s presence persisted, which was decidedly odd.

“I am sorry, Respected One,” Caen replied slowly and with fitting deference, “but I could not speak this language yet. I needed to—”

“Silence,” the shadeling’s whispers prompted with authoritative insistence. “Enough of my time has been wasted.”

Caen could feel this creature’s… desperation, however. It needed something from Caen.

“You are in grave danger,” the shadeling continued through its many whispers. “And I am here to help you. Quickly, you will swear yourself to my service and do as I command.”

Caen could very distinctly feel the imbalance of that contract. This creature was not remotely as powerful as Hera-Lienixur. And the weight of its presence continued to dwindle with each passing second. Something was very wrong.

A portion of Caen’s mind was already constructing a separate contract, while another modified the terms of this one.

“Grave… danger, Respected One?” Caen asked, even as he gently extended his existence towards the shadeling.

The first thing Caen noted from its soul structure was that amidst the writhing shadows behind the creature, only one of those was an actual tail. A stable cord of connection ran between Caen and the creature—nearly as stable as the cords between Caen and his immediate family members. More importantly, however, the creature’s soul wasn’t as strong as a peak Attuner’s. It wasn’t weaker either, as there was a strange richness to it.

“There is no time for foolish questions! Make your oaths,” it ordered, though far more urgency could be felt from its soul.

“Of course,” Caen said, disconnecting from the creature. “I do so swear.”

Two frail contracts tightened around his soul as firmly as a neck scarf.

“Now—” the creature began.

Caen crashed his existence onto the shadeling with more ferocity than he ever had.

The black fox recoiled, and the world of darkness around them dispersed.

Caen fell back into the room along with the shadeling. The creature became more ‘fluid’ in an instant and had already begun to flow into Caen’s shadow, but it suddenly froze in place.

Teiro and Hshnol were standing at the ready, their auras, along with Sormot’s, no doubt, pressing down on the shadeling. Sormot slammed her bident down on the shadeling’s neck, trapping it firmly in the dirt.