The storm finally loosened its grip. A thin, ash‑gray light seeped through the torn clouds, painting the shattered battlefield in a mournful hue. Bodies of legionnaires and demon flesh littered the field, the stench of ozone and spilled blood heavy in the air.
Raven leaned against a broken spear, Mira's weight still half‑supported by his side. His shoulder burned where Victor's blade had pierced, a jagged scar of black‑veined frost spreading like ink under his skin. He could feel the lingering hum of the forcefield he'd summoned—still trembling, still foreign.
Natasha knelt beside them, pressing a glowing herb bundle to Mira's wound. Her emerald eyes flicked to Raven, a mix of relief and urgency.
A low, rhythmic chant rose from the western ridge—deep, resonant syllables that vibrated the very ground. It wasn't the roar of the Abyssal Gate, but something older, more deliberate.
Raven's breath hitched. The rune on his chest— the one that had flared when he saved Mira— pulsed in time with the chant. A cold dread crawled up his spine.
"Nat… do you hear that?" he whispered, voice barely audible over the dying wind.
Natasha's hand stilled. "Sounds like… a guild hymn. Sorcerer's Guild, maybe?"
Mira, wincing, managed a hoarse laugh. "We just fought a demon bear… and now we're hearing lullabies?"
Raven's eyes narrowed. He pushed himself to his feet, the pain in his shoulder flaring, and stared toward the ridge. Through the mist, silhouettes emerged—cloaked figures in violet and silver, their robes fluttering despite the still air.
At the front rode *Cecil Talon*, his scarlet scarf torn, a blood‑stained staff in his grip. Behind him, rows of students—young, eyes wide with fear and resolve—marched in formation, chanting the same dirge.
Cecil's gaze locked onto Raven. For a heartbeat, his expression flickered—surprise, then a cold calculation. He raised his staff, and the chant swelled, resonating with the dark runes etched on the ground.
"Raven," he called, voice echoing across the field, "you should not have survived."
A chill ran through Raven. The words hit like a blade. He felt the forcefield's echo again, a tremor that wasn't his own.
_An assassin's dying gasp, a soul being sucked into a black vortex, a whisper: "Take my strength, child."_
Raven staggered. The memory of the assassin's power surged through him, the same dark energy that had shielded Mira. He realized—*the forcefield wasn't his*. It was the residue of the assassin's stolen ability, a fragment of the Sorcerer's Guild's shadow magic.
His heart pounded. "You… you opened the portals. The Abyssal Gate… it's just one of many."
Cecil's smile was thin, cruel. "We opened the Veil to claim a new age. The demons are merely… collateral."
Salem, clutching his side, rose with the few surviving legionnaires. His sword, still wreathed in fire and ice, crackled.
"Stand down, Cecil," he growled. "You bring ruin on all of us."
Cecil's eyes flicked to the legion commander, then to Raven. "Raven, you still have a choice. Join us, and the power of the Veil is yours. Refuse, and you die—again."
Raven's jaw tightened. He felt Mira's hand on his arm, warm, steady. Natasha stepped forward, blade humming with a faint green light.
"Never," Raven said, voice low but fierce. "If this is the price, I'll burn it all down."
Cecil thrust his staff forward. A torrent of violet shadows erupted, swirling into a portal that yawned like a mouth of night. From it poured *shadow beasts*, skeletal and luminous, their eyes burning crimson.
Legionnaires charged, swords flashing. Mira, though wounded, summoned a burst of sand‑poison wind, turning a group of beasts to dust.
Salem roared, his blade cutting an arc of fire that met an icy blast from his other hand, freezing a beast mid‑leap.
Raven, drawing on the alien force inside him, released a pulse of black light that shattered the nearest portal, sending a wave of darkness back into the Veil. He felt the pain of the souls he'd taken, their anguish feeding his power, but also tearing at his sanity.
Cecil's laughter rang out, manic. "You think a few broken portals can stop us? The Veil is hungry. It will consume all—legion, guild, even you, Raven."
He pointed his staff at Raven. A ribbon of shadow coiled, seeking his heart. Raven's forcefield flickered, the black veins pulsing faster.
"Stop!" Mira shouted, lunging, her blade slicing through the shadow strand. It snapped, recoiling into Cecil's staff, causing him to stagger.
In that split second, Raven saw the rune on Cecil's throat—a twin to the one on Victor's neck, a mark of the *Coven of Whispers*, the secret sect that had engineered the demon gates for power.
"You were behind Victor, behind the assassin… all to open the Veil," Raven breathed.
Cecil's eyes burned. "And you, child of the Starlight, will either rule beside us or die with the rest."
Raven's mind raced. The forcefield's dark echo, the souls he'd taken, the friends bleeding beside him. He looked at Mira—her bruised face, her fierce determination. At Natasha, steady and fierce. At Salem, his bloodied fists still clenched.
He raised his hand. The black light gathered, swirling, forming a sphere of raw shadow. He could feel the Veil's pull, the promise of endless power, but also the scream of countless lives.
"Cecil," Raven said, voice steady, "close the Veil. Save what's left."
Cecil sneered. "You cannot close what you do not control."
Raven smiled, a cold, broken thing. "Then I'll destroy it."
He thrust the sphere forward. The shadow exploded, a wave of pure negation spreading across the battlefield, swallowing portals, beasts, and the chanting guild members. The ground cracked, the sky tore, and a deafening silence fell.
The storm cleared. The Abyssal Gate was a smoking ruin, its black flame extinguished. The legion survivors gathered their dead, tears mixing with ash.
Mira leaned on Raven, her wound bandaged, eyes wide with awe. "You… you saved us."
Raven's gaze lingered on the horizon, where a faint violet glow still lingered— the last ember of the Veil.
"Not saved," he whispered. "Just… delayed."
Natasha squeezed his shoulder. "We'll find who's behind this. Together."
Cecil's body lay crumpled, the rune on his throat fading. A wind whispered through the ruins, carrying a name: *Aetos*.
Raven's heart tightened. The war was over but the shadows still lingered.