The chamber beyond is lit by fire. Torches flicker in sconces. Candles burn on iron stands. A wide circular space stretches out like a coliseum, shadows rising into an unseen ceiling. At the center, a black stone table. Around it, maybe twenty figures, all in black, masks obscuring most of their faces.
Except one.
Lucian.
He stands at the head of the table, tall and composed in a charcoal suit, no mask on, only power.
And to the side are rows of initiates that I’ve seen in my Guild classes, including the four boys.
They don’t wear their uniforms. Just black, plain and clean.
I walk and take my place next to Dakota.
Lucian raises his hands.
“Tonight,” his voice commanding, “we welcome a daughter of legacy. A name thought lost. A bloodline reclaimed.”
My chest tightens. I don’t want more spotlight on me.
“This is Isobel Grace Ashthorne,” he continues. “My daughter. The rightful heir to the Ashthorne seat.”
Some heads turn toward me. Others stay stone-still.
“She will begin her initiation this month,” Lucian says. “As all of you once did.”
He turns to me. “Step forward.”
I do. I press my hands to my thighs.
“Do you accept our code?”
I nod.
“Say it,” he prompts.
“Steal from anyone, never from the Guild. No killing—not unless the choice is death or the fall. And above all—honor above chaos. We do not burn the world to rule it. We slip through its cracks to own it quietly.”
“And our creed?”
“Honor amongst thieves, bound by blood.”
“Welcome to the shadows, Isobel.” Lucian smiles.
A small box is placed in front of me. Dark green velvet. Inside, a gold, intricate ring with a purple-red stone.
“The stone is an Alexandrite, to represent your birth stone. It changes colors in different light sources. The Guild mark is underneath the stone, embedded in the gold.”
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper.
“Every ring is designed for each initiate to wear for the rest of their Guild career. Wear it with pride. Or not at all,” he says.
I slide it on. The ring feels heavy on my finger. Not from the weight — it is featherlight, the gold shines. But from what it means. Legacy. Power. Expectation.
Lucian gives me a subtle nod, then gestures with two fingers. I step back in line. Dakota grabs my hand and squeezes it.
There is a space between the boys and me, but the space between us is electric with tension. The air around the boys always feels charged — like lightning could strike at any moment, and they’denjoythe chaos.
One by one, initiates are called up and given their rings.
