The wind howled louder the farther they moved from the tournament grounds.
No fanfare greeted the victors here. No cheers. No banners.
Only silence.
Zayn sat stiffly inside the carriage, its windows clouded by frost despite the summer air outside. He wasn't sure whether the chill came from the strange magic that clung to their route or from the company he now kept.
They were seven in total. Seven members of the Thirteenth Order, including their captain. None spoke during the ride, save for the occasional muttered word between two of them—words in a language Zayn didn't recognize.
He wasn't sure whether he preferred the quiet.
Sitting across from him was the Captain of the Void Serpent Order himself—Veydrin Kaelthorn.
The man's eyes were sharp enough to cut steel, and his hair fell in silver strands over his face, shadowing most of his expression. He wore his order's crest over a high-collared coat—a coiling serpent devouring its own tail, inked in violet threads.
"...You're calmer than I expected," Veydrin finally said, breaking the suffocating quiet. His voice was low, steady, like a blade unsheathing in slow motion.
Zayn swallowed but held his gaze.
"I've never been good at panicking," he muttered.
The Captain's lips twitched, barely.
"You'll need that," Veydrin replied, leaning back. "Few make it to our gates without losing pieces of themselves along the way."
Zayn's fingers brushed the edge of his Grimoire—still bound tightly and hidden inside his satchel. He didn't respond.
Another of the Order's members, a tall woman with dull amber eyes and braided hair threaded with thin bone charms, chuckled under her breath.
"Think he'll last a week, Captain?"
Veydrin didn't glance at her.
"He'll last as long as he's meant to."
Their carriage passed under a looming stone archway soon after. The sight made Zayn's breath catch.
This was their domain.
The Order's compound wasn't like the towering fortresses of the other Legions. There were no marble pillars or glowing banners. No courtyards bustling with recruits.
Instead, the Thirteenth Order was nestled inside a sprawling canyon carved by magic itself—deep, twisting ravines layered in pale stone and purple mist that never cleared.
Bridges crisscrossed the cliffs, leading to iron-clad towers that seemed to cling to the edges of the canyon like stubborn roots. Each tower bled faint violet light from their seams, humming with magic he couldn't begin to name.
Veydrin's voice broke through again as they disembarked.
"Welcome to the Maw of the Serpent."
Zayn stood in stunned silence as the others began unloading supplies from the carriage, moving with practiced efficiency.
"Walk carefully," the woman with the bone charms warned him, offering a sharp grin. "Step off the wrong ledge, and you'll keep falling forever."
Zayn followed, his legs slightly unsteady as they crossed the first narrow bridge into the heart of the canyon.
---
The inside of the tower was warmer but no less strange. The walls were lined with shelves—filled not with books, but with jars, relics, and old weapons coated in runes. Candles burned with violet flames in every corner, casting long, shifting shadows.
Zayn was led through winding halls until they reached a chamber that looked like a common gathering place—if one could ignore the massive serpent skeleton curling along the ceiling, its eyes glimmering faintly.
Here, he finally met more faces.
Veydrin gestured for him to sit at the long wooden table, already half-filled with members.
There was the bone-charm woman—Mira, he learned later—her magic specialized in shadow and trap magic, both subtle and deadly.
Next was Eldon, a quiet, broad-shouldered man with lightning scars trailing down his arms. He was one of the older members, his specialty in sand and stone magic—earthbound but brutal in its force.
Others trickled in.
Selin, a slender, sharp-tongued wind mage known for her uncanny speed.
Kaelros, no relation to their Captain, who specialized in water and ice magic, his demeanor cold as his spells.
And then there was Varn, their medic and poison mage, whose unsettling grin never seemed to fade.
Together, they barely spoke—but when they did, it was with dry humor and biting honesty.
"Another stray," Selin remarked, sizing Zayn up. "Captain does love collecting trouble."
"Don't be rude," Mira snorted, tossing a bone charm between her fingers. "He's just lost. He'll find his footing."
Zayn finally cleared his throat, his voice steady despite their stares.
"Do I… need to prove something?" he asked.
Eldon's deep chuckle rumbled.
"You already did. The fact you're here means you survived the gaze of the Maw. That's more than most."
Veydrin sat at the head of the table, watching the exchange with quiet interest.
"You'll adjust in time," he said simply. "Here, we don't separate by magic type. Orders are about purpose—not power."
Zayn tilted his head.
"What… is the purpose of this Order?"
Silence fell.
Mira was the first to speak, voice softer now.
"We do what others can't. What others won't. The dirty work. The vanishing acts. We erase threats before they grow teeth."
Varn grinned, raising his glass. "To shadows and serpents."
The others followed, lifting their drinks—not in celebration, but in some quiet, shared agreement.
Zayn didn't lift his.
Veydrin merely watched him again, his eyes unreadable.
"You'll learn," the Captain said calmly. "For now… rest. Your room is prepared."
---
Later that night, as Zayn sat alone in the small chamber they'd given him—bare stone walls, a narrow bed, and a single window overlooking the endless fog below—there was a knock at his door.
He tensed.
But then—
"Zayn? It's me."
Lyra's voice.
His heart lurched before he could stop it.
He opened the door quickly, pulling her inside before anyone else could see.
Lyra looked different out of her tournament gear—her silver hair pulled back loosely, her cloak folded over one arm. Her violet eyes softened the moment they met his.
"You're alive," she whispered, letting out a shaky breath. "I was… worried."
Zayn offered the faintest smile.
"Told you I wouldn't die."
She scowled faintly, though her relief was clear. Her gaze swept over the room, then back to him.
"They let visitors in?"
"Not exactly," she admitted, glancing toward the hallway. "I had to bribe Mira."
He chuckled, though it still felt foreign here.
They sat in silence for a while, the only sound the soft hum of magic far below them.
Lyra's gaze grew more serious after a moment.
"You're really part of this Order now," she said quietly.
Zayn nodded.
"Do you regret it?"
He hesitated. Thought of the canyon. The bones above the table. The strange comfort in the shadows.
"No," he answered honestly.
Lyra studied him carefully, then reached out, squeezing his hand.
"Then neither do I."
They didn't speak more that night.
---
They moved in a line, seven of them, all newly branded, trailing behind a figure clad in deep violet robes stitched with silver serpentine patterns.
Zayn walked near the middle, feeling the weight of dozens of gazes still lingering on his back from the spectators left behind at the arena. Even now, whispers followed him like shadows.
The air shifted as they passed under the archway leading to the Thirteenth Order's domain. It wasn't just a change in scenery—it was a change in everything.
The passage was long and winding, the stone walls lit by faint, pale-blue torches that barely seemed to burn. Their flames moved oddly, almost as though they flickered in reverse, curling downward rather than up.
Silence reigned, save for the echo of footsteps.
Ahead, the violet-robed guide spoke without looking back, his voice low, but somehow it reached all their ears.
> "From this point on, you belong to the Void Serpent Order," he said, his words curling like smoke.
"Leave behind the names the outside knows you by…for here, you are reborn."
The words weren't a request. They were law.
Still, no one responded. Not yet.
Zayn's fingers brushed against his Grimoire, strapped tightly to his hip, its single page untouched for now. He wasn't ready to open it here. Not in this place.
Finally, the tunnel opened into something far grander.
A cavernous hall stretched before them, massive enough to house an entire village. The ceiling disappeared into darkness, the walls a spiral of twisting staircases, alcoves, and narrow bridges suspended in midair with no visible supports. At the very center of it all, coiled around a jagged obsidian pillar, was a massive sculpture of a serpent, its eyes glowing faint violet, fangs bared in an eternal snarl.
Around the hall, figures moved—members of the Thirteenth Order.
Some sat atop high balconies, observing like silent judges. Others lounged near the edges, their uniforms matching shades of deep indigo and silver.
None spoke.
They only watched.
> "This is the Nest," the guide said, raising his arms toward the cavern.
"The heart of the Void Serpent Order. Remember it well. You'll see it in your dreams long after you leave it."
Zayn swallowed, his throat dry. There was something…off about this place, something that tugged at the edge of his mind.
One of the recruits ahead of him, a boy with flame-red hair and sharp green eyes, muttered under his breath, "Creepy as hell..."
The guide's eyes flicked back briefly, just for a moment, as though he'd heard him.
And then, from above, another voice descended.
> "Bring them forward."
It wasn't loud, but it silenced everything.
On a balcony higher than all others, seated upon a curved throne made of silver and black stone, sat a man.
He looked young—far too young to command such presence—with sharp, narrow eyes and hair so pale it nearly shimmered. He wore no crown, but the way the others bowed their heads told Zayn everything.
This was their Captain.
The Captain of the Void Serpent Order.
The guide obeyed, leading the seven recruits toward the base of the throne's steps.
"Kneel," the guide ordered, and the recruits obeyed, some slower than others.
Zayn knelt too, though every part of him tensed in quiet caution.
The Captain rose slowly from his seat, descending the steps with elegance that seemed too smooth to be natural. His cloak dragged behind him like liquid shadow.
He stopped right before them.
"So these are the ones chosen by fate today," the Captain murmured, his voice smooth and calm but carrying a subtle bite underneath.
His gaze drifted over each face before landing on Zayn.
"Especially you," he said, a thin smile creeping across his face.
Zayn didn't flinch.
"You already carry whispers behind your back," the Captain continued softly, crouching down just enough to look Zayn in the eye.
"Outcast-born, yet carrying a Grimoire like that… Empty pages sometimes hold the loudest screams."
Zayn held his stare.
"I didn't ask for it," Zayn replied, his voice steady but not aggressive.
The Captain's smile widened just slightly.
"Oh, you'll fit in quite well here."
He straightened, walking past them toward the center of the hall.
> "Seven new Fangs join our Coil today," he announced, his voice now echoing through the chamber, commanding attention from all watching above.
"Mark their names well."
And then, they were called.
One by one.
Kael—the flame-haired boy with fierce green eyes—was called first. His specialty: Poison Magic. A surprising pairing for his appearance, but the Captain didn't seem to mind.
> "A fitting venom to seep into the world," the Captain remarked as Kael was guided away toward the side halls.
Others followed.
Ira, a girl with hair like spun silver and icy blue eyes, known for Illusion Magic.
Nox, a quiet boy who wielded Shadow Magic with unsettling ease.
Velan, who controlled Trap Magic—his dark humor evident even in his smirks.
Then, Zayn's name.
> "Zayn," the Captain called, the hall growing eerily silent.
Zayn stood.
The Captain's gaze pinned him like a spear.
> "Void's Breath welcomes you."
No elaboration. No commentary.
Just that.
Zayn walked toward the inner stairs where the others had gone, his heart beating heavy in his chest.
As he disappeared down the corridor, the whispers returned—but now they came from every direction, from mouths unseen.
---
Inside the Order's Quarters
The living quarters were nothing like the outer halls. They were quieter, dimly lit but surprisingly warm in atmosphere. There were lounges, libraries, private rooms, and gathering spaces.
Members moved freely here, their uniforms varied with some wearing capes, others more practical robes or tunics. There were even some without uniform at all, marked only by their Order crest on the neck or wrist.
Zayn was shown to his room—a modest chamber with dark wooden shelves, a small desk, and a circular window overlooking an endless void of swirling mist.
He hadn't even settled in fully when there came a knock at his door.
He opened it—and blinked.
"Lyra?"
She grinned, her braid swinging behind her as she stepped inside without hesitation.
"You really did it," she said, closing the door behind her. Her eyes wandered around the room before settling back on him.
"The Thirteenth Order, huh? Didn't think I'd see you here."
Zayn couldn't help but smile, his shoulders easing at her presence.
"Didn't think I'd end up here either," he admitted.
She studied him, then sat herself on the edge of his desk.
"People are already talking about you," she said, voice lowering slightly.
"Some are scared. Others are…curious."
"Let them talk," Zayn muttered, leaning against the wall.
Lyra's gaze softened.
"You're still you, you know," she said, her tone more serious now.
"Outcast or not. Grimoire or not."
He met her eyes. There was something steady in them—something that didn't waver, even after everything.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
She smirked, breaking the heavy air.
"Don't thank me yet. You owe me a meal after this," she teased.
Zayn actually laughed, a quiet, rare sound from him.
> "Deal."
---
Later That Night
As Lyra left, promising to visit again soon, Zayn wandered the Order's inner halls. He passed members deep in study, some practicing strange spells that made the walls themselves breathe and shimmer.
He heard conversations—about missions, about forbidden magic, about the outside world they left behind.
But mostly, they spoke about him.
He would need to learn their names. Learn their ways.
This wasn't just a place.
It was a serpent's nest.
And now, he was part of its coil.