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After the war, Wil's life began to blossom.
He had reunited with his sister, Laelynn, and together they bought a modest home—an actual house with stone walls, a tiled roof, and the warmth of laughter echoing within. For once, they weren't surviving. They were living.
His battlefield feats had not gone unnoticed. The Absolute Authority soon approached him with an offer: a place in the Nightshade Legion—the Dominion's most elite force. Wil accepted.
The Nightshade Legion was unlike any other military unit. Its members were handpicked from the most exceptional warriors across the Shadowfen Dominion. Some were chosen for their talent, others for rare abilities. Their training was brutal—designed to break even the strongest in both body and mind.
They fought from the shadows, unlike the standard Shadowfen soldiers(The shadow's) who clashed in open battle. Stealth, poison, and precision were their weapons. Their arsenal included silent crossbows, curved daggers laced with venom from the Dominion's deadliest flora, and tactics honed for ambush and infiltration. The jungle was their ally. The night, their shield.
Though Wil excelled, the job left him exhausted—his body bruised, his spirit frayed. But no matter how demanding his position became, he always made time for Laelynn. With his high-ranking status came wealth, enough to give her everything they never had as children.
For the first time in years, Wil began to dream again. Not of glory or vengeance—but of teaching.
He brought his request to the Absolute Authority. They refused him at first. But eventually, they relented—on one condition: he would train a candidate handpicked for the Nightshade Legion. A single student. A prodigy.
Wil accepted.
The selection day arrived quickly. Seven candidates stood before him—tall, polished, and confident. Most of them came from noble houses. Their clothes were clean, their posture proud. But one among them stood out.
A boy, small for his age. His clothes were worn. His boots, patched. His name was Rave.
One might wonder why he was there at all. He possessed no magical gifts, no aristocratic blood, no rare weapon forged by ancient blacksmiths. But Rave had killed a Grade 2 beast—at the age of thirteen. That alone was impressive.
But it wasn't what he killed that earned him his place.
It was how.
He had used no enchanted blade, no explosive magic. Only his surroundings. His instincts. His mind. The beast had died in silence, unaware of the hunter until its final breath.
Wil looked into Rave's eyes that day and saw a reflection of himself—clever, hungry, and full of pain.
He chose Rave without hesitation.
Rave was soon invited to Wil's home. His eyes widened the moment he stepped inside. It was the first time he'd been in a real house since the death of his parents. Wil watched him quietly that day—how carefully he touched the carved wooden walls, how long he stared at the flickering candles, how gently he smiled at Laelynn.
As the years passed, their bond deepened. Wil began to see Rave not just as a student, but as a son. Rave, in turn, had started to fall for Laelynn. She had soft, raven-black hair and delicate features that seemed almost too fragile for the harsh world they lived in. And she, in time, began to return his affection.
Wil noticed. But he did not object.
Then—everything changed.
Rave was ordered to undergo a mandatory curse examination. The results came in quickly.
Positive.
Wil rushed to the medical ward, panic flooding his veins. He didn't know what the curse was—but he knew Rave. The boy was crying when he arrived, tears streaking his face as he sat silently on the examination bed. Wil held him without a word.
The next morning, they were summoned to the court of the Absolute Authority.
Neither of them expected the verdict.
The hall was cold, lined with black stone and emotionless guards. A judge, cloaked in dark velvet, sat atop a raised platform.
He spoke bluntly.
"Rave's curse is this: everyone he loves will die."
The room fell silent.
Rave's eyes widened. Wil froze in place. A chill ran down his spine.
And then it hit him.
He loved Rave.
Laelynn loved Rave.
Both of them were now targets.
The judge continued, voice void of emotion.
"Rave is a danger to everyone around him. We cannot risk innocent lives for the sake of sentiment."
He turned to Wil.
"Nightshader Wil, what is your decision? Will you execute the boy… or exile him?"
A storm erupted in Wil's chest.
His hands trembled. His throat clenched. He thought of Laelynn—her laugh, her future. He thought of the boy beside him, the boy who had become his son.
He swallowed hard.
"…E-execute him," he whispered.
Rave's head turned slowly toward him. His face drained of all color.
His teacher, the one man he trusted, had chosen to execute him.
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