Three beastkin girls stood before Prince Serenil in his private quarters, freshly bathed and dressed in the simple black-and-silver maid uniforms of House Aetheryn. Their eyes—once hollow with fear and confusion—now shimmered with a flicker of curiosity.
Serenil sat upon a stone bench beneath a wide arched window. Sunlight poured in, painting his expressionless face in golden hues. Voidrender remained sealed within the arcane sigil beneath his palm.
He spoke, calm but firm.
"You no longer wear chains. But freedom must be earned."
The girls nodded, silent.
"I will not have nameless blades in my service. From now on, you live as my shadows… and shadows must carry names of weight."
He approached the fox girl first. Her green hair flowed softly past her shoulders, and her bright blue eyes never left his face.
"You… who were first to strike."
He placed a hand on her head. "You are Lyssia. Quick-footed. Graceful. Your name means Hidden Tempest in the Old Tongue."
She blinked. "…Lyssia."
Next, the cat girl. Her purple hair curled like wild flame, and her light pink eyes glimmered with mistrust—and something deeper. Pride, perhaps.
"You moved with silence and struck with precision," he said. "A hunter in the dark. You shall be called Nyara—Silent Claw."
Nyara said nothing, but her tail twitched.
Finally, the rabbit girl. Her reddish-orange hair framed her small face, and her red eyes shimmered with guilt more than anything else.
"You fought with fire and desperation," he said. "A scattershot fury. I name you Reia—Scorched Moon."
Reia lowered her head. "…Reia…"
Serenil looked at all three. "You are no longer nameless tools. You are Lyssia. Nyara. Reia. My blades. My shadows. My responsibility."