Lucid Memory

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Fire consumed with no mercy. It purified. It destroyed. Its light cast back the shadows but did nothing for the darkness within him. Hard silver-blue eyes watched the blaze spread through messed and matted black hair shot with silver strands. He was crouched above the house on a slope; hard flat eyes fixed from the shadows. He had no clue she stood behind him until she spoke. "That was a rather rude thing to do." The young kal'dorei spun in his crouch, a snarl curling his lips. The glint of sharpened stone appeared in the darkness under his hunched chest. She stood patiently, unimpressed. "Is this a child or a beast, I wonder?"
He sprung from his crouch, crude dagger raised to attack. Her vines caught him in mid-flight; springing from the ground to wrap him in thorny, green iron. The boy continued to growl at her, eyes cutting through that mess of hair. She walked around him, studying him carefully. Soiled leather clothing. A chunk of flint fashioned into a crude weapon clutched in his hand. A layer of dirt covering everything. A pitiful wreck. He writhed wildly, feeling her examination of him, and heedless of the cuts and lacerations from the thorns. She came to look him in the face. Brilliant emerald eyes on a level with those bits of glowing flint. They were still for some time before she spoke. "Sleep." He did.
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The verdant glow of Moonglade suffused everything. He walked up solemnly, a dark statue given motion and wearing naught but some swaddling for modesty. She watched the boy, now a man, as he walked up from the shadows and knelt before them in this holy place. The moon was bright tonight and in the glade it was nearly as bright as day to their glowing eyes. When he knelt there was no mistaking the vicious scar along his back. Many more would be added to it in the years to come. 
She approached him without giving so much as a glance to her companions. His eyes turned up to look at her, the dark hair now bound and clear of their gaze. The silver-blue eyes still cut the air. The sounds of the glade seemed to fade away as she began to speak in the moon's shining light. "Long have you walked this path, and much have you endured. You have waged a war within your soul. On this day, and in this place, you declare your victory in that struggle. The struggle will continue, but all will know the master of your spirit. Speak the words, boy, and seize your destiny."
His words did not explode or slice or burn through the air, they were just words. But their meaning had already engraved itself upon his essence. He spoke them loudly, with some measure of pride, resolved to his doom.
I, born Shingetsu Moonsong, Son of Shinta, Son of Shieda,
Do solemnly swear on this day and every day subsequent that I draw breath,
To uphold the tenets of a Warder.
To watch over the safety of my entire people.
To preserve them from dangers the darkness may bring forth.
To walk the shadows in their stead.
To patrol where others will not dare.
To kneel before no other and to swear no oath before the Warder Oath.
To take no action which may endanger my people.
To pass in shadow so that others may live.
This I so swear.
His last words hung in the air like a echo of a tolling bell. She nodded. "I am Therashar Dreamstrider and it was I who instructed you in the ways of the wild. I set you on this path and therefore it is fitting that it is I who gives you your name. Shingetsu Moonsong has now ceased to exist." She placed a hand on his bare shoulder as she stepped past him. "Rise, Durgaraf, Warder of the Kal'dorei. The dark wolf of old is returned in you to issue forth protection in the form of death." She waited at his shoulder as he rose, now grown to tower over her. His eyes burned with his name and he simply gave her a nod in return. She walked off behind him as the next shan'do approached.
He was encased in armor from neck to toe and green eyes looked up to the new Warder. In his hands was a bundle he held with pride. "I am Captain Byrel. For nearly a hundred years you were my apprentice. In that time I taught you of war and battle and strategy and the managing of order. You were an adept pupil in these things. Accordingly, my gift to you as your Shan'do is this," he held forth the bundle, waiting for the man to take it. It was revealed to be a supple suit of armor, made of black dragon scales and mithril. "Made from the same drake that met it's end on your spear. What you slew to protect your people will now lend it's strength to you as you continue to do so." He rendered the man a sharp salute and then joined the druid towards the rear.
The final shan'do stepped forward, thin and lithe and garbed in blues and greens so dark as to be nearly black. In her hands was a long, curved blade. "I am Fyrrilam. You have crept the shadows with me and made them your own. Though I have given you instruction you have found in yourself the essence of the shadows themselves." She gave him a roguish grin. "You take the shadows and bend them to your will such that they bow to you even when you do not call for them. You have made them a part of you so much that they call you brother. From me you shall receive this, the symbol of the Warder, the uloph-talah." She tossed the sheathed blade to him and he snatched it from the air. Reverently placing a hand on the long, leather bound hilt, he pulled the blade free of it's cover. The metal literally glowed in the moonlight, but the falcon emblazoned on the blade was still perfectly clear. "Bear it well and strong, Warder Durgaraf, and try not to die too quickly." His eyes rose to her devilish smile and a solemn nod was his only reply.
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