The Imperial Capital of Tianzhou unfolded before Mei Lin like a living scroll painting. After fifteen days of travel along increasingly poputed roads, the small company crested a final hill to reveal a sprawling metropolis encircled by massive walls. Great pagodas with gilded roofs pierced the sky, their golden tiles reflecting sunlight like dragon scales. The central Imperial Pace complex rose highest of all, surrounded by its own inner wall and moat.

  Mei Lin, riding in front of Wu-Mei as she had throughout their journey, caught her breath at the sight. Nothing in her father's stories had prepared her for this vastness, this splendor.

  "The heart of the world," Wu-Mei murmured behind her. "Home of the Son of Heaven."

  As they approached the outer gates, Mei Lin noticed how the crowds parted for their small procession. The imperial insignia on their banners granted them immediate passage where merchants' caravans waited for inspection. Even noble panquins moved aside when Commander Zhao's party approached.

  They did not, as Mei Lin expected, proceed directly to the central pace. Instead, they followed a wide avenue that curved away from the main thoroughfare, eventually reaching a sprawling compound set against the inner city wall. Unlike the ornate buildings they had passed, this structure was austere, its walls high and unadorned. The only decoration was a simple bronze pque beside the entrance gate, bearing three characters that Mei Lin strained to recall from her father's lessons.

  "Imperial... Orphan... Refuge," she sounded out slowly.

  Commander Zhao gnced back at her with mild surprise. "You can read?"

  Mei Lin nodded. "My father taught me. He was a clerk once."

  Something like approval flickered across the commander's face before he turned away. "A useful skill."

  The gates opened without any visible signal, revealing a stone-paved courtyard fnked by sparse, functional buildings. Servants in pin gray robes emerged to take the horses, their eyes downcast, their movements efficient. Mei Lin was lifted from Wu-Mei's horse and guided firmly toward the main entrance.

  "This is where I leave you," Commander Zhao said, his tone becoming more formal. "You will be prepared before meeting the others."

  Mei Lin clutched her small bundle of treasures tighter, suddenly afraid. "You're not staying?"

  "My duty is to find, not to train," he replied. Then, with unexpected gentleness, he added, "You have survived worse than this, Mei Lin of Lihua. Remember that in the days ahead."

  Before she could respond, an elderly woman in a gray robe emerged from the main doors. Her silver hair was pulled back in a severe bun, and she carried herself with rigid posture despite her apparent age.

  "Mistress Xu," Commander Zhao acknowledged with a respectful bow. "Another candidate for your consideration."

  The woman assessed Mei Lin with cold, analytical eyes. "Name and origin?"

  "Mei Lin of Lihua vilge. Sole survivor of the border raid two years past. She has lived alone in the wilderness since."

  Mistress Xu circled Mei Lin slowly, noting her matted hair, her dirt-encrusted skin, her ragged clothing. "Feral, but that can be amended. Condition?"

  "Healthy, despite her circumstances. Quick-witted. Literate, surprisingly. Exceptional spatial awareness and memory."

  "Very well." Mistress Xu nodded once. "We accept the candidate for evaluation."

  With that, Commander Zhao and his scouts departed, leaving Mei Lin alone with the stern woman and the silent servants. Mei Lin watched Wu-Mei ride away, the only familiar face in this strange new world disappearing through the gates.

  "Come," Mistress Xu commanded, turning toward the entrance without checking if Mei Lin followed.

  Inside, the compound was a maze of courtyards, corridors, and identical rooms. They passed through a series of gates, each requiring a different key from the ring at Mistress Xu's waist. Finally, they reached a small, tiled room containing a rge wooden tub filled with steaming water.

  "Remove those rags," Mistress Xu ordered.

  When Mei Lin hesitated, clutching her bundle of treasures, the woman's eyes narrowed. "You carry something. Show me."

  Reluctantly, Mei Lin unwrapped her small collection—the smooth stone, the scrap of fabric, the crow's feather.

  Mistress Xu examined each item without comment, then surprisingly, rewrapped them in a clean square of silk she produced from her sleeve. "These will be kept safe until you earn the right to personal possessions. Now, into the bath."

  What followed was Mei Lin's first experience with civilization's cleanliness standards in two years. Attendants scrubbed her raw, cut away her matted hair to a short, uniform length, and submerged her repeatedly in the bath until the water ran clear instead of brown. Her fingernails were trimmed, her feet soaked and smoothed, her ears cleaned with meticulous care.

  Throughout the process, Mei Lin remained silent, enduring the indignity with the same stoicism that had kept her alive in the wilderness. When they finally dressed her in a simple gray tunic and trousers, she felt strangely vulnerable without her yers of dirt and tattered clothing—as if she had been stripped of her hard-won armor.

  "Follow," Mistress Xu commanded when the grooming was complete.

  They proceeded deeper into the compound until they reached a pin wooden door. Mistress Xu produced yet another key, unlocked it, and gestured for Mei Lin to enter.

  The room beyond contained a long table with twelve cushions arranged around it. Eight of the cushions were occupied by children approximately Mei Lin's age—some perhaps a year older, others a year younger. All wore the same gray garments, all had the same cropped hair regardless of gender, and all turned to stare at her with unnerving intensity as she entered.

  At the head of the table sat a man whose presence immediately commanded attention. Unlike Mistress Xu's severe pinness, he wore robes of deep indigo with subtle embroidery at the cuffs and colr. His hair was swept up in a schor's topknot, secured with a jade pin. Though not particurly tall or muscur, something about him suggested coiled danger.

  "Approach," he said, his voice soft yet carrying easily throughout the room.

  Mei Lin stepped forward, conscious of the other children's scrutiny. Up close, she could see that the man's face bore a thin scar that ran from his left temple to his jaw, disappearing into his short beard.

  "I am Master Lin," he said. "I oversee the first phase of your training." His dark eyes studied her with the same analytical intensity Mistress Xu had shown, but with something else beneath—a flicker of genuine curiosity. "You are the ninth candidate brought to us this selection cycle."

  He gestured to an empty cushion at the table. "Sit."

  Mei Lin obeyed, taking her pce between two other children—a boy with sharp cheekbones and a girl whose eyes held a coldness that reminded Mei Lin of a winter predator.

  Master Lin addressed the group. "As I was expining before our new arrival, you have all been chosen for the possibility that you might serve the Dragon Throne in a capacity few ever attain. The fact that you sit at this table means you have been deemed worthy of evaluation." He paused, his gaze sweeping over each child. "But evaluation is not selection, and selection is not completion. Of the twelve pces at this table, only those who prove themselves truly exceptional will advance."

  Mei Lin gnced around, counting again. There were only nine children present, including herself.

  "Three pces remain to be filled," Master Lin continued, as if reading her thoughts. "Commander Zhao's scouts continue their search. When all twelve candidates have been gathered, your true evaluation will begin."

  He rose from his cushion, moving with a fluid grace that reminded Mei Lin of the way wildcats stalked through the forest. "Until then, you will learn our ways. You will follow our rules. You will begin to shed your pasts and embrace the honor that awaits those who succeed."

  He circled the table slowly. "First rule: You no longer have names. Names belong to the lives you have left behind. Here, you are known by your position in the selection." He pointed to a stocky boy at the far end of the table. "You were first. You are One."

  The boy straightened slightly, his expression neutral but his eyes betraying a hint of pride.

  Master Lin continued around the table. "Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight." He paused at Mei Lin. "Nine."

  Mei Lin felt a strange sensation as her name—the st connection to her parents, to Lihua vilge—was stripped away. She was Nine now. Not a vilge girl, not a forest survivor, just a number in a sequence.

  "When you address each other, you will use these designations," Master Lin instructed. "When you are addressed by any master or servant of this house, you will respond to these designations. Forget your former names. They are no longer yours to cim."

  He returned to his pce at the head of the table. "Second rule: There is no outside world. The compound is your entire existence. You will not speak of your past lives. You will not inquire about others' origins. The past is dead to you, as you are dead to it."

  Nine—she forced herself to embrace the new identity—gnced at the others, wondering what tragedies or circumstances had brought them here. Each face was carefully composed, revealing nothing.

  "Third rule: Obedience is immediate and absolute. Hesitation brings consequence. Refusal brings dismissal." Master Lin's voice hardened on this st point. "To be dismissed is to be cast out, not to return to whatever life you left behind. Think carefully before you challenge any instruction."

  He cpped his hands once, and servants appeared with trays bearing simple bowls of rice, steamed vegetables, and small portions of fish. "Eat. Afterward, Mistress Xu will show you to your sleeping quarters. Tomorrow, your preliminary training begins."

  Nine stared at the food pced before her. After two years of foraging and hunting, the simple meal looked like an imperial feast. She reached for the chopsticks, then hesitated, suddenly aware that she had forgotten many of the social customs her mother had once taught her.

  The boy next to her—Five, she remembered—noticed her hesitation. Without looking at her directly, he positioned his own chopsticks correctly, giving her the chance to mimic his grip before Master Lin noticed.

  As they ate in silence, Nine observed the others surreptitiously. One, the first selected, carried himself with confidence. Two and Three seemed to share some unspoken communication, perhaps having formed an alliance already. Four kept her eyes downcast, revealing nothing. Five, who had helped her, ate methodically, his movements precise. Six was the youngest, barely suppressing childish fidgeting. Seven was tall for his age, with shoulders already beginning to broaden. Eight, the girl beside her, maintained perfect posture while eating, suggesting previous training or noble birth.

  When the meal concluded, Mistress Xu reappeared to lead them through more corridors to a long room containing twelve identical sleeping mats arranged in two rows.

  "Girls to the right, boys to the left," she instructed. "You will rise at the five-drum. You will be prepared for training by the seven-drum. Bathing and hygiene are conducted in silence. Personal items are forbidden until earned."

  She indicated a chest at the foot of each mat. "Your uniforms are there. Two sets only. You are responsible for their maintenance." With that, she extinguished all but one small mp and departed, leaving the children in near-darkness.

  Nine found the mat corresponding to her designation—the fifth one on the right side. She knelt on it, feeling its thin padding over the hard floor. After sleeping on forest floors and in hollow trees, it felt strangely comfortable.

  As they prepared for sleep in the dim light, Eight leaned slightly toward her. "You're from the wilderness," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

  Nine tensed, remembering Master Lin's second rule about not discussing their pasts.

  Eight must have sensed her reluctance. "It's alright. They always listen during the first night to see who breaks the rules. This is your first test." With that, she turned away, settling onto her mat with her back to Nine.

  Nine remained still, absorbing this information. The quiet around her felt forced—nine children, all surely curious about each other, all maintaining deliberate silence. She wondered how many had already failed this unannounced test in previous nights.

  Sleep came fitfully. She wasn't accustomed to being indoors, to the sounds of other breathing bodies nearby, to the confines of walls and ceiling. Several times she jolted awake, disoriented and reaching instinctively for her stone knife before remembering where she was and what she had become.

  At some point during the night, she became aware of soft footsteps in the corridor outside. The door slid open slightly, and mplight spilled across the floor. Nine kept her breathing even, her eyes nearly closed but watching through her shes. She glimpsed Mistress Xu standing in the doorway with another servant, observing the sleeping children. After a moment, they withdrew.

  Eight had been right. They were being watched, tested even in sleep.

  The five-drum woke them while stars still shone through the small window near the ceiling. Nine rose instantly, her body conditioned by two years of wilderness survival to transition from sleep to alertness in seconds. Some of the others were slower, particurly Six, who had to be prodded awake by Three.

  Their second day brought the first taste of the training to come. After a breakfast of rice porridge and weak tea, they were led to a stone-floored courtyard enclosed by high walls. Master Lin awaited them, now dressed in simpler attire suitable for physical activity.

  "Your bodies are untrained," he began without preamble. "Some of you bring strength from your previous lives. Others bring endurance. Some bring neither." His gaze lingered briefly on Six, who shrank slightly. "All of you will be rebuilt from your foundations."

  What followed was the most physically demanding experience of Nine's life—more exhausting than tracking prey for days, more painful than surviving winter nights without shelter. They ran circuits of the courtyard until their legs burned. They held stance positions until their muscles spasmed. They performed endless repetitions of basic movements that Master Lin corrected with taps of a thin bamboo rod—gentle for minor adjustments, stinging for significant errors.

  Nine discovered that her wilderness life had given her advantages in endurance and pain tolerance, but left her cking in specific strength and coordination. Five, she noticed, moved with uncommon precision, suggesting previous martial training. Two was surprisingly strong despite her slight frame. Eight possessed remarkable bance, recovering instantly whenever Master Lin tried to disrupt her stance.

  By midday, all nine children were drenched in sweat, their gray uniforms darkened with exertion. Six had vomited twice but continued, his small face set in desperate determination. One had excelled at every challenge, reinforcing his position as first-selected.

  They were given a brief rest with water and rice balls, then divided into three groups for specialized assessment. Nine found herself with Three and Eight, following a new instructor—a wiry man introduced only as Master Hawk—to a secluded garden area.

  "You three have shown particur environmental awareness," Master Hawk expined. "Let us see how well you observe."

  He led them on a winding path through the garden, walking at a brisk pace while pointing out various features—a particur stone, an unusual pnt, the pattern of tiles on a small bridge. After completing the circuit, he returned them to the starting point.

  "Now, Three. Tell me how many red flowers we passed."

  Three hesitated only briefly. "Seventeen visible blooms across four different pnt types."

  Master Hawk nodded once, then turned to Eight. "How many steps did I take while we walked?"

  "Two hundred and sixty-three," Eight answered without hesitation. "Including the small adjustment when you nearly stepped on a snail."

  Finally, he addressed Nine. "What lies beyond the eastern wall of this garden?"

  Nine had been monitoring her surroundings instinctively, as she had learned to do in the forest. "A kitchen, I believe. I smelled garlic and ginger. There's a water source—I heard it spshing. And there are at least two people working there—their footsteps had different weights."

  Master Hawk's expression remained neutral, but he nodded with apparent satisfaction. "Your senses are already awakened. Good. We will sharpen them further in the days to come."

  Simir assessments continued throughout the afternoon. Nine was tested on her climbing ability, her capacity to move silently, her reaction time when objects were suddenly thrown at her. Each skill was evaluated dispassionately, her successes noted without praise, her failures corrected without criticism.

  By evening, when they gathered again for a simple meal, Nine understood that everything—every movement, word, even gnce—was part of their evaluation. The masters were cataloging their abilities, identifying their potential roles in whatever service awaited those who succeeded.

  Three more days passed in simir fashion. On the fourth morning, they were awakened not by the five-drum but by Mistress Xu announcing the arrival of the tenth candidate. A small, wiry boy with a scar across his scalp joined their ranks, becoming Ten.

  Nine observed the pattern that had been applied to her now repeated with Ten. The bathing, the uniform, the renaming, the rules. Ten adapted quickly, suggesting he had come from harsh circumstances that had prepared him for this abrupt transition.

  Two more days passed before Eleven arrived—a tall girl with unusually pale skin who moved with a dancer's grace. And finally, four days after that, the st mat was filled by Twelve, a stocky boy who spoke with a strange accent when he forgot the rule of silence during meals.

  With all twelve candidates assembled, Master Lin announced the beginning of their true evaluation. "Until now, you have been assessed as individuals," he told them, standing before them in the main training courtyard. "From this point forward, you will also be evaluated as a unit. Your success or failure may depend as much on your ability to work with others as on your personal skills."

  He gestured toward a new figure who had entered the courtyard—an elegant woman in robes of midnight blue, her hair adorned with a single ornate silver pin.

  "This is Lady Fei, First Shadow to the Emperor himself," Master Lin said, his own voice carrying a note of deference that Nine had not heard before.

  The children immediately bowed deeply, pressing their foreheads to the stone floor as they had been taught. Nine's heart raced at the mention of the Emperor. Though they had been told they were being trained for imperial service, this was the first direct connection to the Dragon Throne itself.

  "Rise," Lady Fei's voice was melodious but commanding. "Let me look upon the new seedlings."

  She walked slowly along the line of candidates, pausing to study each face. When she reached Nine, her dark eyes seemed to peer straight through to her core, assessing and calcuting in a way that made even Master Lin's scrutiny seem superficial by comparison.

  "Interesting," was all she said before moving on.

  When she had examined all twelve, Lady Fei returned to stand beside Master Lin. "These children are not being trained merely as pace servants or imperial guards," she announced. "They are candidates for the Shadow Guard—the Emperor's unseen protectors, his eyes in darkness, his hands when discretion is required."

  Nine felt a shiver run through her at these words. Around her, she sensed simir reactions from the others, a collective intake of breath at this revetion of their true purpose.

  "The Shadow Guard exists in the spaces between," Lady Fei continued. "Between light and dark. Between seen and unseen. Between life and death. We do not serve the individual who sits upon the Dragon Throne, but the throne itself—the continuity of imperial power."

  She gestured toward the pace visible beyond the compound walls. "The current Emperor is in his fifty-third year of rule. When he passes to join his ancestors, his son, the Crown Prince, will ascend. Each new Emperor selects new Shadows from among the candidates trained during his father's reign."

  Lady Fei's gaze swept over them once more. "You twelve represent one selection cycle. If you prove worthy, when the Crown Prince becomes Emperor, you will enter his service as Shadow Guards. Until that day, you are merely candidates—numbers, not names."

  Master Lin stepped forward. "Only when you have completed your training and been selected by the new Emperor will you receive your true designation. Only then will you be addressed as Shadow One, Shadow Two, and so forth."

  Nine absorbed this information, finally understanding the significance of the numbering system, the reason their names had been stripped away. They were not just being trained as servants but as elite agents of imperial power, hidden figures who would one day move through the shadows of court and kingdom.

  Lady Fei signaled, and servants brought forth a cquered box. From it, she removed twelve identical medallions, each bearing the imperial dragon crest on one side and a single character on the reverse—the character for "shadow."

  "These mark you as candidates," she expined as Master Lin distributed them. "They grant you no authority, no privilege. They are merely reminders of what you strive to become."

  Nine accepted her medallion, feeling the weight of it in her palm. The polished bronze was cool against her skin, the dragon motif intricate and imposing. She slipped the cord over her head, letting the medallion rest against her chest beneath her gray uniform.

  "Your true training begins now," Lady Fei announced. "For the next seven years, you will learn what few in the Empire ever know. Some of you will fail. Some may die. Those who remain when the Crown Prince ascends will have earned the honor of becoming Shadows."

  With that pronouncement, she departed, leaving the twelve children standing in stunned silence. Master Lin allowed them a moment to absorb Lady Fei's words before cpping his hands sharply.

  "Form pairs," he commanded. "One with Twelve, Two with Eleven, and so forth. Combat assessment begins."

  Nine found herself facing Four—a quiet, serious boy with quick eyes and a wiry build. As they squared off in the training posture they had been taught, Nine reflected on how completely her life had transformed in less than a month. From wild child of the forest to candidate for the Emperor's elite Shadow Guard, from Mei Lin of Lihua to simply Nine.

  The name her parents had given her now seemed like something from a distant dream—a memory from a different life. As she blocked Four's first strike and countered with a technique she had learned just days ago, Nine accepted the truth of her new existence.

  Mei Lin was gone. Only Nine remained.

  And Seven years from now, if she survived the training that y ahead, she might earn the right to become Shadow Nine—servant to the Dragon Throne, protector of the Empire, a living weapon forged from the broken pieces of a vilge girl who had watched her world burn.