The Shadow's First Hunt

For the things we have to learn before we can do them, we learn by doing them.

— Aristotle

———

A soft gasp escaped her lips, and her free hand pressed against her chest as if to contain something threatening to burst free.

"Master, I—"

"Shh." I released her hand, but gradually, allowing my fingers to trail across her palm before breaking contact. "Understanding comes through practice, not words. Go now. Pull the thread. Show me you comprehend the deeper game we're playing."

She rose with that same ritual grace, but something had shifted in her movements. They were hungrier now. More dangerous. The mark on her hand caught the candlelight as she moved, the spiral appearing to twist and dance in the flickering shadows.

"How will I know if I've succeeded?"

"You'll know." I settled back in my chair, projecting an air of absolute confidence I didn't entirely possess. "Trust your instincts. They've been honed by years of survival in a world that wanted you invisible. Now that invisibility becomes our greatest weapon."

She bowed deeply, the gesture carrying an almost religious reverence. "I won't disappoint you."

"I know you won't."

After the window slid shut, the silence she left behind was heavy. I stared at the map, but saw only the burning conviction in her eyes. Intoxicating. And terrifying.

She would kill for me. Without question. Without hesitation. And the most disturbing part is that I'm starting to rely on that certainty.

The next evening, she returned.

The window opened silently, and she glided into my chamber like a shadow given form. Everything about her had transformed. The nervous tension that had characterized her previous visits had completely vanished. In its place was something sleek and lethal. She moved with the assurance of someone who had discovered a hidden talent within themselves—a natural predator recognizing its claws for the first time.

"Master." She knelt before me in that same position of supplication, but now her posture carried an unmistakable undercurrent of triumph. "I have news."

"Tell me."

Her report flowed out in an eager torrent, each word infused with the fervor of a religious convert describing their first divine vision. She had tracked the blue-cloaked man through the winding streets of three separate districts, meticulously mapped his entire routine, and identified his primary contact—an unremarkable clerk in the merchant quarter who specialized in selling secrets disguised as legitimate business.

But what impressed me most was her comprehension. She hadn't merely observed; she had understood. She had discerned the hidden patterns, grasped the nature of the game being played, and even anticipated the next several moves in this intricate dance of espionage. Her natural intelligence, sharpened by years spent watching from the shadows as a servant, had blossomed under my direction into something truly extraordinary.

"Excellent." I leaned forward, extending my hand to her hair. The obsidian strands felt like spun silk beneath my fingertips as I traced a slow path from the crown of her head down to her shoulder. "You've exceeded every expectation I had."

"Hnnngh~"

Her eyelids fluttered shut, and a sound caught in her throat—a soft, broken thing, half supplication, half bliss. It was the most honest sound I had ever heard from her, and it hit me like a drug. A hot coil of possessiveness tightened in my gut, tangled with the icy guilt of the manipulator. It was the purest, most dangerous form of power, and it was utterly addictive.

"You want more." It wasn't a question. The hunger was written plainly across her features—that desperate yearning for another assignment, another secret to uncover, another moment of this intimate conspiracy we shared.

"Please, Master."

I withdrew my hand, noticing how she leaned slightly toward me at the loss of contact. The mark I had drawn on her skin the previous night had faded, but something in her bearing suggested it had been permanently etched into her very essence instead.

"Good. Now for the real work." I reached into my desk drawer and removed a letter I had intercepted from Lucius's correspondence. The wax seal impressed upon it bore the image of a serpent devouring its own tail—an ouroboros that hinted at connections to powers far beyond our petty family rivalries.

"My brother believes himself the true heir. He exchanges messages with someone powerful who nurtures this delusion." I held the letter up to the candlelight, allowing her to see the pristine, unbroken seal. "These letters are protected by ancient magic. Break the wax, and the sender is instantly alerted. However, there exist other methods to discover what lies written within."

Her gaze fixed on the letter with unwavering intensity. "You want me to read it without breaking the seal."

"I want you to acquire skills that will make you irreplaceable. Not merely as an observer, but as a true artist of deception." I placed the letter on the desk between us—both challenge and offering. "This represents trust, Lyra. The most dangerous kind. I am placing in your hands weapons that could utterly destroy me if wielded carelessly."

The significance of my words settled over her like a ceremonial mantle. She reached for the letter with movements that were almost ritualistic in their reverence. When her fingers closed around the parchment, she looked up at me with an expression composed of equal parts devotion, hunger, and something far more troubling.

Something that looked disturbingly like love.

"Teach me," she whispered. "Make me worthy of this trust."

As our eyes met in the dim candlelight, I could see the transformation taking place within her—the servant girl fading away, replaced by something both magnificent and terrifying. She was becoming exactly what I needed: a weapon forged in absolute loyalty. Yet as I watched her cradle the letter with such care, I couldn't help but wonder if I was creating something I wouldn't be able to control when the time came.

She cradled the sealed letter as if it were a holy relic. The girl who scrubbed floors was gone, replaced by a creature of terrifying devotion. She had learned to watch.

Now, I had to teach her how to see.