VOW OF NYX

Chapter 11 – Mortem Aeternum

Weeks of relentless, grueling training had transformed Nyx into a force of precision and instinct. She had sprinted blindfolded through narrow corridors, twisted her body mid-air, rolled under swings, felt vibrations through the stone beneath her feet, and anticipated attacks before they came. Every dagger, knife, and short blade was an extension of her body. Every bruise and scar, every aching muscle, had been a lesson in survival and mastery. She had become unstoppable.

‎This is no longer practice, she thought, every strike a meditation in controlled fury. This is preparation.

‎That afternoon, Cassian lounged at his estate, surrounded by Fraternity members and friends. Laughter echoed across the courtyard, the sun glinting off the steel of blades at his belt.

‎Bootsteps rang sharply. Silence fell instantly. Nyx stepped forward, her eyes locked on him, her presence commanding.

‎“Cassian,” she said, voice cold and unwavering. “I challenge you. Mortem Aeternum. Here. Now.”

‎No waiting. No formalities. Nyx had created the duel, and it would be settled immediately.

‎The words were cold, measured, and left no room for negotiation. The Mortem Aeternum — the Fraternity’s Ceremonial Death Duel — was reserved for the ultimate test: a fight with no mercy, no holds, where the victor claimed dominance, respect, and the unspoken acknowledgment of supremacy.

‎Gasps ran through the crowd. In the Fraternity, refusal was impossible. Cassian’s smirk faltered. Drawing his blade, he said, “As you wish.”

‎Members cleared a path, escorting them to the Fraternity’s duel hall, a vast chamber of stone and steel. The duel began the moment the doors closed.

‎Cassian lunged first, diagonal s***h aimed at her shoulder. Nyx pivoted on the balls of her feet, stepping back, letting the blade cut through air. She flicked her wrist; dagger grazed his forearm, leaving a thin red streak. He spun, sweeping low at her legs. Nyx leapt, twisting mid-air, landing behind him. A feint drew his guard; she stabbed toward his ribs. Sparks flew as steel clashed. She spun, slashing the small of his back, forcing him to stumble.

‎He countered with a spinning elbow strike. Nyx ducked under, rolled forward, and came up behind him, dagger pressed to his side. He twisted, deflecting, and swung for a high strike. Nyx backflipped, narrowly avoiding the blade, then countered with a low kick to his knee, sending him staggered.

‎

‎Blood gleamed along his side and forearm. Each move Nyx executed was a masterstroke; each dodge precise. He swung with growing desperation. She rolled under, flipped backward, slashing across his shoulder.

‎The crowd erupted in whispers — Nyx had clearly dominated the opening phase.

‎Recovering, Cassian launched a furious barrage. A high lunge, spinning horizontal strike, downward slice. Nyx flowed like water, ducking, twisting, countering. Her daggers grazed his neck, sliced his arm, and nicked ribs.

‎He tried to corner her, swinging with raw power. Nyx sidestepped, using his momentum to drive him toward the hall wall, landing rapid stabs along his torso. Each parry, each dodge, each thrust was a perfect execution of lethal precision. Blood mixed with sweat, coating their arms.

‎Cassian pivoted, swinging a horizontal strike. Nyx ducked, rolled forward, and jabbed his midsection. He staggered, swung backhand; she deflected, countering with a spin-stab to his side.

‎The crowd declared her dominant once again. Cassian’s strength was formidable, but Nyx dictated pace, angles, and strategy.

‎The final phase erupted. This was Cassian’s strength — a flurry of raw power, rapid spins, and signature strikes meant to overwhelm. He lunged for a finishing blow, dagger aimed at her chest. Nyx twisted under, rolled, flipped backward, landing behind him. She jabbed his ribs. He spun, spinning kick aimed at her head; she ducked, flipped forward, and landed a low cut across his thigh.

‎He recovered, launching a rapid succession of horizontal and vertical strikes. Nyx anticipated, pivoted, blocked, and countered with upward stabs, kicks to the midsection, and spinning slashes. Blood sprayed across the stone floor.

‎Then, the moment came — he lunged for a final strike with maximum force. Nyx sidestepped, grabbed his momentum, spun him, and drove a dagger into his shoulder. He staggered, off-balance. She pressed forward, precise, cold, and unstoppable. Against all expectation, she overcame Cassian’s strongest phase. Shock rippled through the hall.

‎The duel’s rule was clear: the loser loses their life. Nyx’s hand hovered over the trigger, ready to finish him.

‎Velra’s commanding voice rang out: “Selene! Stop! I forbid it! I will not let you kill him!”

‎Nyx froze, nodding slightly, acknowledging Velra’s authority. Cassian, guided by Velra, began to retreat. Relief swept the spectators — the duel seemed over.

‎But memories surged — chains, betrayal, her sister’s death, assault. Her body moved before thought. A gunshot cracked, and Cassian collapsed into Velra’s arms. Silence fell.

‎

‎Velra’s eyes blazed. “Why?!”

‎Nyx’s gaze was icy. “Choose. I remain under my rules, or I walk away solo. My domain, my terms. The choice is yours.”

‎Velra, realizing the Fraternity’s stability depended on Nyx, nodded reluctantly. “You stay. Under your conditions.”

‎Nyx swept the hall with her gaze. Her voice cut like steel:

‎“Let this be clear. If I ever hear of a man abusing a woman in Umbra Noctis, the fate of that man will be exactly what Cassian endured. Understood?”

‎Her cloak brushed the stone floor as she walked away, deliberate, cold, unstoppable. Whispers of awe and fear rippled through the hall. Nyx had claimed the Fraternity, reshaping power and establishing dominance beyond question.

‎Velra remained, holding Cassian’s lifeless body, staring after Nyx. She realized Nyx was no longer merely a member — she was the storm around which Umbra Noctis would revolve.