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  The sound of hooves pounding against the earth echoed through the dense forest, the night still thick with the scent of blood and smoke. Ashen Vilebane rode at the head of his men, his cloak billowing behind him as the weight of victory pressed upon his shoulders—not as a burden, but as a triumphant crown. The infamous Asael Kian Ravenwood, the strongest sorcerer, had finally fallen, and by his hand no less.

  A smirk tugged at the corner of Ashen’s lips as he reached the hidden encampment. The moment he dismounted, he reached for parchment and ink, his fingers trembling with exhilaration as he scrawled a letter to his benefactors. Every stroke of his pen bled satisfaction:

  To the Esteemed Circle,

  The thorn in our path has been uprooted. Asael Kian Ravenwood has drawn his last breath, his body left amidst the ruins as an offering to the past. With his downfall, nothing stands in the way of our ascension. Prepare for the next step.

  Vilebane.

  As the ink dried, laughter and cheers erupted around him. Goblets clashed, the scent of roasted meat filled the air, and faces alight with revelry toasted to the death of a legend. Ashen basked in the warmth of their celebration, yet a peculiar sensation brushed against his mind. Something unsettling. Something unfinished. He dismissed it as the remnants of battle and drank deep from his cup, reveling in the moment.

  Far from the jubilant echoes of Ashen’s camp, the Ravenwood estate stood cloaked in uneasy silence. Lord and Lady Ravenwood sat in the grand hall, their expressions tense as if unseen hands pressed upon their chests.

  A delicate porcelain cup slipped from trembling fingers, shattering against the marble floor. The sound rang louder than it should have, sending a shiver through the room.

  “Mother… Father…” The young voice of Elaria Merinda Ravenwood, only eighteen, broke the silence. Her wide eyes darted between them, uncertainty clouding her features. “Why do I feel… like something terrible has happened?”

  Lady Ravenwood’s grip on her embroidery tightened, the needle pricking her finger without her noticing. Lord Ravenwood exhaled deeply, placing a steadying hand on his daughter’s shoulder, but he had no words of comfort to offer. He too felt it—the ominous void that had settled within his heart.

  Back at the ruins where betrayal and blood intertwined, silence reigned. The air was thick with an unnatural stillness, the echoes of agony lingering like whispers from the dead. The massacre site, once teeming with life, was now abandoned to time.

  But not entirely.

  A lone figure knelt beside a lifeless body, his trembling fingers ghosting over the silver-white strands of hair now matted with blood. Crimson still pooled beneath Asael’s unmoving form, yet there was a fragile peace in his expression—his stormy gray eyes forever closed.

  Tears slipped down the unknown man’s face, unnoticed even by himself. He leaned forward, pressing a reverent kiss against Asael’s forehead, his breath shuddering.

  “I’m sorry,” came the whisper, barely louder than the wind.

  Then, with reluctance weighing his every movement, he lifted Asael’s body from the blood-soaked ground and laid him gently upon the ruins’ stone floor, Asael long crystal sword lay beside him become dimmed no light or shimmers. The glow of the moon illuminated his face for only a moment before he turned away, retreating into the shadows.

  Mounting his horse, the figure wiped the last remnants of sorrow from his face, though his heart still bled. Behind him, his trusted men followed in silence, their grief as heavy as the forbidden ruins left behind.

  And so, the land that had witnessed treachery sealed itself away, forever untouched, forever cursed.

  And Asael Kian Ravenwood was no more… or so the world believed.

  But one thought remain in that person's mind, 'I promise to avenged you, Kian..'

  Letter to King Themis

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  Your Majesty King Themis, Ruler of the Great Kingdom,

  It is with the heaviest heart that I, Ashen Vilebane, write to you today. My hands tremble as I recount the tragedy that has befallen our beloved Asael Kian Ravenwood, the brightest star of this kingdom.

  During our final mission, we were ambushed by a horde of treacherous sorcerers who sought to end the very foundations of our order. Outnumbered and cornered, Asael, in his boundless courage, stood between me and certain death. He fought valiantly, wielding his mighty magic and blade against the overwhelming darkness. But even the strongest can only hold out for so long. With his last breath, he shielded me from a fatal strike, ensuring my survival while sacrificing his own.

  Your Majesty, Asael's final words were of duty, of love for his kingdom, and for you—his most revered mentor and father figure. He died a hero, protecting not only me but the honor of this kingdom. I can only wish that my words bring even a fraction of the justice his deeds deserve.

  His remains could not be retrieved, for the battlefield was left in ruins, swallowed by an unknown force. A memorial should be held in his honor, for he was not only the kingdom’s strongest sorcerer but also its greatest protector.

  I grieve alongside you, Your Majesty, and I vow to uphold his legacy with every fiber of my being.

  With the deepest sorrow, Ashen Vilebane

  Letter to the Ravenwood Estate

  To the Most Esteemed Lord and Lady Ravenwood,

  It pains me beyond words to be the bearer of such devastating news. Your beloved son, Asael Kian Ravenwood, met his untimely end during our final mission.

  He fought with unmatched bravery, standing against impossible odds. When the enemy forces sought to strike me down, Asael intervened, sacrificing himself so that I might live. His last words were of love for his family, for you, dear Lord and Lady Ravenwood, and for his precious younger sister, Lady Elaria Merinda Ravenwood.

  Though I know no words can ease your pain, please believe that Asael's sacrifice was not in vain. He was not only my closest comrade but my dearest friend. I will ensure his name is honored and remembered forever. His loss is a wound that will never heal.

  I grieve with you, and I beg for your forgiveness for failing to protect him as he protected me.

  With deepest condolences, Ashen Vilebane

  The Reaction of King Themis

  The grand hall of the palace was eerily silent as the royal messenger presented the letter to King Themis. The moment his eyes scanned the words detailing Asael’s death, his hands clenched the parchment so tightly it crumpled in his grasp. A thunderous silence filled the chamber before a deafening crash echoed as Themis slammed his fist against the armrest of his throne.

  "No..." The word was whispered, yet it carried the weight of heartbreak. His breathing became ragged, his eyes stinging with an unfamiliar wetness. "My son… my Asael..."

  The ministers and knights present bowed their heads, not daring to speak. To them, Asael had been more than a warrior; he had been the adopted son of their king, the pride of the kingdom.

  The Crown Prince, who had been quietly observing, took the letter from the king’s trembling hand. His oceanic blue eyes flickered with unreadable emotions as he skimmed through the words. A scoff left his lips before he set the letter down on the polished table. He did not believe a single word.

  Without a word, he turned on his heels, walking away as he grasped his collar, trying to steady his breath. His fists clenched at his sides. Something about this didn’t sit right with him. And he would find out the truth, no matter what it took.

  Chaos at the Ravenwood Estate

  The moment the letter arrived at the Ravenwood estate, chaos erupted like a storm tearing through a calm sea.

  Lady Evelyn Ravenwood barely made it through the first few lines before a sharp cry left her lips, and she collapsed onto the grand hall’s marble floor. Maids and servants rushed forward, their panicked voices calling for help. Lord Ravenwood’s face drained of color as he clutched his chest, his breath coming in heavy gasps as though he had been struck by a fatal blow.

  The letter slipped from his trembling fingers, falling to the ground like a death sentence.

  “No... this can’t be… not my son,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with disbelief.

  A loud, heart-wrenching sob tore through the air as Elaria Merinda Ravenwood dropped to her knees. The porcelain cup she had been holding slipped from her grasp, shattering into pieces upon the floor. Tears streamed down her delicate face as she shook her head violently, her hands clutching the letter as though doing so would change its contents.

  "No! This is a lie! My brother can’t be gone! He promised—he promised he'd return!" she wailed, rocking back and forth, her grief too immense to contain.

  Her cries echoed through the halls of the estate, shaking even the most hardened warriors of the Ravenwood household. The news spread like wildfire, bringing the entire estate to its knees in mourning.

  A Sealed Kingdom and a Departing Figure

  Far away before the chaos, within the ruins where the massacre had taken place, an eerie silence lingered. A powerful force had sealed the land, ensuring no one could enter nor uncover the truth buried within the blood-stained soil.

  Amidst the lifeless corpses, a lone figure knelt, gently cradling Asael’s cold body. The person's fingers trembled as they brushed strands of silver-white hair away from the sorcerer’s pale face.

  A kiss, featherlight and filled with sorrow, was placed upon Asael’s forehead. Then, hesitantly, with a final lingering gaze, the figure rose and mounted their horse.

  Behind them, a retinue of loyal warriors followed in silence, their grief palpable.

  The figure’s eyes, brimming with unspoken emotions, never looked back. But even as they rode away, a single tear slipped free, trailing down their face as the ruins of the fallen kingdom disappeared into the distance.

  A crimson and white bloom, born from the blood of the departed, spread across the land where Asael had taken his last breath—a silent memorial to the one they had lost.

  And in the depths of the wind, an anguished scream of grief echoed, one that no one would ever know the origin of.

  To be continued.