Construction resumed before noon the next morning after a crisp five-mile jog through the woods and progressed faster in the clear morning light. The twins offered, as water supplies dwindled, to search through the forest for the creek we knew was somewhere nearby. Until the pair returned, Dimitri again started up the saw to resume last night’s task, and Kim used her magic to conveniently lay the finished boards into place.

Jake managed to pull me away from the blueprints, assuring me again and again that they were perfect. When his back was turned, I defiantly took an inventory and started another shopping list that would be given to the twins upon their return. Our fortress had proven to be more consumptive of our resources than Luca and I had originally calculated, and we would require more wood if we planned to finish. That, and we would get hungry sooner or later, seeing as our food supplies would only last the seven of us another day or two.

On a second sheet of parchment, still tucked away in my pocket, was a list of names. Names that had taken me nearly a week to carefully construct, with tons of little clues. These names would serve as our new identities, accompanied by severe alterations to our physical appearances.

I expected so much backlash against a few of them, particularly from Dimitri and Luca, but honestly, I didn’t care.
Somewhere just after noon, Kimberly came to me with a problem.

“That better not be another shopping list,” she muttered darkly.

I sighed. “It is…” I responded hesitantly, dreading the reason for her mood.

“Dimitri overpaid on material when you sent him to Bright Port. We need at least another few tons of brick, and a few gallons of mortar, and that dumbass blew most of our funds. How were you expecting us to make money, anyways?”

I furrowed my brow thoughtfully, silently cursing the blue-haired swordsman as I pulled her over to the table where we’d laid out the blueprints. I retrieved a map of our continent and a box of sewing tacks from my bag and smoothed the parchment out over the prints, preparing to answer her question. I laid out tacks for the surrounding major cities: Bright Port, Phoenix Drop, Scaleswind, and New Meteli. A fifth tack marked our current location, located nearly equally between the four. Several smaller red pins marked areas around Phoenix Drop.

“What is this?” Kim demanded after a moment of scouring the map while I stayed silent with a pin between my teeth, trying to remember more locations.

“The bandits,” I replied simply, removing the pin and placing it sharply into the parchment. I, of course, referred to the ranks of men and women who lived outside the control of a city, grouped together in fierce violent groups called clans. They raided, pillaged, plundered wherever they could, and settlements spent thousands keeping them at bay. “The armies have narrowed their main location to the eastern quadrant of Phoenix Drop’s infrequently patrolled territory, but smaller groups split away every so often and camp out around the city, just outside of the army’s jurisdiction. It’s been years since a successful attack—”

“Why are you telling me things I already know?” She accused with a small smirk.

“I thought that school of yours kept you sheltered,” I joked.

“Yeah, but I hung out with you guys after school to talk politics and war games, and my mom is the General of the Alliance.”

I flapped a hand in her face, causing her smirk to widen, and returned to my explanation. “The groups have been moving closer to Phoenix Drop,” I informed her. “I think they’re planning an attack, and soon.”

The smile vanished off her face, and she straightened and craned her neck for a better view.

“This group,” I continued, letting my finger brush against the pin closest the Phoenix Drop marker, “has remained stationary for days now, just outside the patrol range. They’ll have a makeshift camp, and probably crates full of valuables they’ve managed to somehow smuggle out of the city. Depending on whom this party consists of, the bounty money and valuables will be enough to sustain us through the rest of construction.”

Her brow furrowed intensely, her demeanor becoming uncharacteristically hostile for a moment. “How do you know these locations?” She accused. “Shouldn’t my mother know about this—”

I quickly realized she thought I was guilty of treason and backpedaled a bit. “General Valcrum does know,” I revealed, hunting through my bag again. A sudden noise across the clearing captured my attention for just a moment, long enough to see Luca scolding someone near her—probably Jake, again—and reveal that something had become stuck in the blade of Dimitri’s saw. I fleetingly hoped it wasn’t a finger. They’ll get themselves killed. Better to do it yourself, now, before they can throw our chances away.

I shook my head to clear the unwanted thoughts from my mind and resisted the urge to growl at myself. “I’ve been making copies of her reports and stealing glances at her files for months. Her lieutenants never made the connections, and it’s difficult to express concern with reports I’m not supposed to be reading.”

Her suspicion of me vaporized instantly at the simple explanation, and she gave me a small apologetic nod. “My mother is not compassionate to those who snoop through her things. I can understand your hesitance now.”

I hummed with affirmation, turning back to the table with a file with copies of a few of the general’s documents. “She had a collection of theories on who may be affiliated with this raiding party, and I think her best guess may be the Phoenix Drop Clan.” Bandits are an unbelievably unoriginal bunch, and usually named their clans after the cities they raided most often.

“That would make sense,” Kim agreed, tucking her hands away to resist the urge to thumb through the folder. “It is the closest Clan. But are you sure?”

I nodded, opening the file and removing the first few pages to tack them up next to the map. We need a bigger table, I growled to myself before I pointed out the black-and-white photo to Kim. “This man was seen with the party a few days ago,” I shifted the paper aside to view the one beneath, “and he suspiciously resembles the last photo taken of the clan leader, Clarkson Garenica.”

Kimberly hummed thoughtfully and retrieved a silver disk from her pocket. It glowed faintly blue when she set it on the table over the two photos, the color of her magic. “I’ll run a recognition test,” she said as her hands began to glow. “Do you have any more photos I can compare?”

I nodded and pulled out several surveillance shots taken from hidden places in foliage around the bandits’ makeshift camp. I distinguished eight other people in the photos, clustered around a dull fire. The photos were fuzzy, taken at night.

She brushed her fingers over the inked pages, and each one glowed blue for a brief moment. The disk lit up on the table, and beams of light projected a hologram from its center. The hologram reflected the photos back at us, transferred into the system by Kim’s magic, and I grinned as the shading recognition in the programming began to add color to the images, filling in details. She flicked her fingers across the image, and a second image moved to the side of the first; bright colored dots flashing between Garenica’s photo and the man from the raid party—comparing angles, measuring contours, contrasting the different placements of key minor facial features—of which discrepancies were few. After only a few short minutes, the program confirmed that the King of the Phoenix Drop Bandit Clan indeed led the raid party.

“That settles it,” Kimberly sighed. “Garenica wouldn’t be present if they didn’t plan to attack—”

“It’s not the attack I’m worried about,” I admitted, “Phoenix Drop can easily defend itself against some of the most complex campaigns in history: they’ll have no problem against this malnourished group of glorified thieves. Garenica’s bounty is one of the highest in the regions. He’s been a wanted man in Phoenix Drop for a few decades now. His reward would fund us for a good while. I want you to run recognition on the rest of these men; see if they have any notable awards for their capture.”

She nodded; her mouth slightly parted in what must be mild awe. “Way to throw your city to the wolves,” she muttered jokingly, flicking her fingers across the two images, separating them again into eight more panels with eight more faces.

I shrugged and smirked. “We’ll be there to catch them before they have the chance to take the offensive either way. They chose a crap spot to shelter.” I observed.

Another sudden noise drew my attention from my conversation with the witch again, though this time it rang out due to the twins’ success at finding the nearby stream. Their dripping wet hair and soggy clothes showed evidence of their usual time-wasting frolicking, but no one seemed to mind the delay as we rushed forward to claim our share of water. You wouldn’t need water if you would just listen to me, the voice in my head grumbled stubbornly. Though it always came off as feminine, I refused to think of it as anything other than an “it.” The technical term for it was a “Shadow.” I had long forgotten its name.

Go away, I growled back mentally as I accepted a full canteen from Rollo’s hands.  I enjoy you so much more when you hibernate for months at a time.

A very long exasperated sigh rang out through my thoughts, but the voice finally quieted, leaving me in peace among my friends. Jake smiled at me, the front of his shirt drenched with sweat, and patted a space on the log next to him—the same log that must have jammed in Dimitri’s saw, as it seemed to be cut and nicked and overall ruined in several places. I sat next to him, playfully shoving him towards the edge and fighting a faint blush off my cheeks. His perfect smile made my heart hurt sometimes.

Kim joined us from the table a few minutes later, and quickly managed to convince Dimitri to build more working surfaces. She shared most of our conversation with the others, including the location and leadership of the enemy camp.

Dimitri grinned, excited by the chance to fight. “When do we leave?” He asked giddily, his fingers suddenly tapping rapidly against his knee. He loved the thrill of battle, especially when he was sure to win.

“Tomorrow morning,” I decided. “They’ll probably choose to attack soon, now that we’ve left the city, and many of the captains have left along the trading routes. Bandits don’t think in terms of armies—they’re chaotic people who cause as much destruction as quickly as possible to send everyone into a panic. A few officers gone missing, and cities become more vulnerable than the lords would like to admit.”

I ignored the guilty looks that flashed briefly on their faces as they exchanged worried glances and brushed off their concerns. We could protect more people from the shadows than we ever could amongst the light. “That reminds me,” I continued, about to bring to attention an argument we often had before we ran, “on how we plan to hide from our families and homes.”

Our gathering grew more serious still, and even the twins settled down to listen intently. “I bought several bottles of hair dye before we left Phoenix Drop,” I said, gesturing towards my duffle bag. “The dye should cover a few… distinguishing features among us,” My gaze slid to Jake, Kim, and Dimitri, the three of whom possessed bright blue or multicolored hair, and I smirked. “I’ve also started developing lenses that will fit on our eyes to obscure the iris colors. The uniforms I’ve commissioned from the seamstresses and leather workers of Bright Port will blur curves and muscles and other body types. The only thing we need to complete our identities now are the new names.”

Luca’s ears perked with interest, a wry gleam shining in her eye. “You’ve decided on them, then?”

“Of course,” I smirked. “Anything would be better than ‘Wolfe 1’ and ‘Wolfe 2.’”

The twins growled as Jake ducked his head as the twins glared accusingly at him—the terrible first choices had been his idea, and they embarrassed him now. Dimitri threatened to permanently refer to him as an “uptight dunderhead” when Jake suggested calling him “muffin top.”

“Do we get to know?” Dimitri asked, his left eyebrow arched challengingly over a dark blue eye. “Or maybe you want us to be in the thick of battle before you start shouting cryptic words at us?”

Kimberly laughed lightly. “Knowing Natilia, it’ll be something complex and symbolic in some way or another, and probably mildly insulting to some degree.”

I huffed at their teasing and pulled the list from my pocket, smoothing the paper on my knee and shielding it from view when Jake craned his neck to have the first peek. Luca pulled him back with a mild admonishment and Lello swung his legs over Jake’s lap to keep him still.

Sensing his opportunity, Dimitri’s hand shot into the air. “Me, first!” He demanded. “I want to be insulted first!”

I couldn’t resist the smirk that found me and kept my hand over the list. Many hours had been spent on Dimitri, searching for something equally masculine and feminine, the latter only to be insulting. “Kat,” I said simply, pulling a knife from my belt.

His grin froze on his face, and I’m sure he thought he heard me wrong. For a man who demanded to be insulted and was quite capable at dishing them out, this one seemed a bit too far above his standards. “No,” he spat, allowing the anger to wash calmly over his face. He gestured vaguely over to the twins, challenge oozing from his words. “Are we calling them ‘Dog?’ No, probably not. That’s stupid—”

“It’s short for ‘Katana,’” I interrupted, unamused with his reaction, and gesturing at the pair of thin swords propped against his cutting table, “your specialty weapon.”

He stopped his rant, looking dumbfounded for a moment, glancing between me and the swords he had trained with since he was six. I crossed my arms, daring him to challenge my logic again. As a last effort, he growled out at me. “What? No super-secret-insulting last name?”

“Arlatosc,” I growled back, handing him the knife.

Luca’s face scrunched up curiously, thinking. “Rearrange those letters and it spells Scarlato,” she mumbled to herself and turned to Dimitri as he slit the blade across his palm, watching the blood pool in the cut, “your father’s surname.”

“Oh!” Rollo exclaimed, smacking his fist into his open palm. “That’s an Annie Mam, right?”

His brother reached over to hit him and nearly missed. “No, you idiot, it’s a Hannah Dam.”

Kim’s face showed concern for their intelligence, but Luca silenced them before she had the chance. “It’s called an anagram, dumbasses,” the younger werewolf snapped.

“I don’t care what it’s called,” I sighed, my fingers pressed to my temple against the quickly oncoming headache, “but yes, it is an anagram.”

“My turn,” Jake volunteered with a raised hand. He struggled where Lello had him pinned in another attempt to steal a glance at my list. He held his other hand out for the knife and rubbed the blade against his pants to clean it once it was given.

I held it up above my head in which would have been a fruitless attempt if we were not all sitting. “Jacob Ro’Maeve,” I chided, “wait your turn.”

“I did wait,” he protested, throwing me a playful glare. “I let Dimitri have his turn—now it’s mine.”

The Captains’ sons—Dimitri and Jake both—had clearly inherited their fathers’ impatience. Neither liked waiting for any long period of time unless promised something interesting in return. So, I relented. “Jacob will be JT Maeve’ro,” I confessed, referencing his almost forgotten middle name, Tanner. Like with Dimitri, I slightly scrambled his last name and watched with satisfaction as he dragged the blade across his left palm.

He rolled his eyes, but smiled, and stopped his struggling against his werewolf opponent.

“Kimberly will be Kite La’Crumv,” I continued, hoping that there would be no more interruptions if I didn’t stop to pause. The dagger exchanged hands quickly, following my words. She smirked at the mention of her animal-familiar’s species. “Rollo will be Rontu Pilune, Lello will be Lowell—”

The name was met with immediate excitement as both boys gasped like children and covered their mouths. Lowell Anthrope just so happened to be a living legend, the albino chief of a tribal werewolf settlement in Bright Port. Baton had been built on their lands to protect a secret portal to an evil realm of fire and death. As a way to keep his tribe safe, Lowell joined Baton’s elite fighting force, the Dragon Ward, and secured a new territory for his people to settle. Lello and his family’s transformation abilities originated from this tribe.

I continued. “—and Luca will be Tiny Dyla. I am Nat Calyn.” Finished, I crumpled the list and leaned back, waiting for my turn with the knife. “Any questions?”

Luca’s glare burrowed into me, but I ignored her indignance. Luca, although being a generally tall person, earned the name by her short temper and easy rage. Her intolerance for stupidity sometimes interfered with her ability to be a reliable field medic, but over the years of working in the apothecary of the most impulsive town in Ru’aun, she’d learned to save the yelling for after her patients had stabilized. She caught this from my thoughts, surely, because her glare softened to borderline tolerance as she slit her hand in acceptance.

Lello raised his hand. “I never caught my last name,” he grinned. “Can I put in a suggestion?”

“No,” I answered as I sliced through my own hand, wincing at the sting, “you cannot be Lowell Annie Mam, and you cannot be Lowell Throepan. You are Lowell Thernopa.”

He pouted. “‘Throw-pan’ was better.” Though he had already taken the knife once to accept his first-name, he took it again to accept his surname. He didn’t seem to mind the unnecessary second cut across his left palm.

The round of light laughter played over the clearing, filling the trees as Tiny pulled gauze from her duffel to wrap our wounds. I liked this simple camaraderie. I stood up to stretch and the gathering broke, the others scattering back to their tasks, sending Tiny skittering after them to treat their cuts. As I was the easiest, she treated me first before embarking to find the others. I gave myself something to do when she left as the evening sun began to sink, dragging branches and chucks of rotten trees from the bramble thicket back to the log we’d sat at, piling the wood in front of our makeshift rest place. Pines needles and bark stuffed between the branches caught fire easily when I struck sparks off the flint.

Jake—JT, now—appeared behind me suddenly as the scent of burning pine hit the air. He said nothing, opting instead to lay down by the flames and close his eyes, out of sight of the house and Tiny’s rage. He denied it, but I always thought he smelled like pine sap from sword-fighting on the training grounds all day. I’d never admit it, but I loved the smell of pine.

I gave him a warning about letting Tiny catch him sleeping before I walked off back to the tables. I stayed away from the blueprints, knowing that if I started inspecting them again, I’d never stop. I checked the hologram. It had so far identified four others, apart from Garenica, that held substantial ransoms over their heads; enough to complete construction if we sent anyone other than our worst shopper to pick up materials. A notification chimed on the hologram; a reminder that the uniforms I’d commissioned from Bright Port were ready to be picked up.

I studied the surveillance shots of their encampment, noting openings and such while twisting a charcoal stick between my fingers while I thought. Bandits were guerilla fighters, not great in forced combat, but they outnumbered us two-to-one. We’d need speed to avoid a hassle, and it would be better to stay distant. I tore myself away from the projection for a second to jot “rope” down on the supply list. Returning to the photos, I noted the best place to ambush them would be by the campfire, near the center of their encampment. The best time to catch them all together in such close quarters would be while they ate.

A small figure huddled near the edge of the shot caught my attention. I remembered other reports I’d snatched from General Valcrum’s office; boys living in the clans as young as twelve were often forced to participate in thefts and raids. By age eighteen they were accustomed to plundering, violence, and murder. This boy bore strong resemblance to Garenica, with sandy blonde hair and a face showing strong promise of the bandit king’s features, but he couldn’t have been older than fourteen—younger than Kite.

I don’t know why he intrigued me so much. The way he sat, away from his brethren, suggested unacceptance. He was an outcast in his own family, separate from the warriors. Strange, considering how even through the photo I could see he was incredibly well-muscled for his size, suggesting extensive training which would lead to skill. Skill was a trait the bandits valued above faith, above honor, loyalty, family. The skillful survived, the weak did not—the simplicity of their philosophy often pissed me off.

Fire—my head hissed.

No, I responded dully, not really paying attention to it. No arson for you today.

No, it insisted. Fire.

I huffed, opting instead to ignore it, when my eye caught on something else from the photo. Around his hands, which he had cupped in front of himself to warm in the freezing night weather, emitted a strange white glow. The black-and-white picture made it difficult to tell, but it almost looked like…

Fire, it giggled again with apparent glee. Embrion.

A chill shot down my spine at the word I hadn’t heard in so many years as it kept talking. You have found one. Someone like you. Someone like us.

I let the growl rip from my throat this time, not bothering to hold back the harsh sounds full of hope and fear. After all these years, years of being alone, I’d found another one. A child one, like me.

A Shadow Knight.