Every story needs a villain.
That was the first thing Elara learned the day she arrived in Ravenshade.
The city itself whispered it—through the way people lowered their voices at street corners, through the way guards tightened their grip on weapons when night fell, through the single name no one said without fear. The villain was blamed for ruined harvests, broken alliances, and every unexplained death that stained the kingdom's history.
Kael.
"Elara," her aunt warned softly as they passed beneath the iron gates, "whatever you do, stay away from him."
Elara didn't ask why.
She didn't need to. Everyone already knew the story.
Kael was cruel. Kael was dangerous. Kael was born wrong. They said he smiled when cities burned and that shadows obeyed him like loyal dogs. They said the gods themselves had marked him as a mistake.
Heroes were raised here. Legends were trained here. And villains—villains were not meant to be understood.
Yet Elara felt it the moment she stepped into Ravenshade: the story was incomplete.
That night, thunder rolled across the sky as if the heavens themselves were restless. Elara stood at her window, unable to sleep, watching lightning split the darkness. The academy courtyard below lay empty—except for one figure standing alone in the rain.
He didn't move when the thunder cracked.
He didn't flinch when rain soaked his dark coat or when shadows curled unnaturally at his feet. He simply stood there, head tilted upward, as though daring the sky to strike him down.
Elara's breath caught.
This was not how villains were supposed to look.
There was no madness in his posture, no cruelty in the stillness of his form. If anything, he looked… tired. Like someone who had fought battles no one bothered to remember.
A sudden flicker of light revealed his face, sharp and striking, eyes a shade too intense to be human. For a brief moment, he looked straight at her window.
At her.
Elara stumbled back, heart racing. That was impossible. She was several floors up. No one could see her.
But she was certain he had.
The next morning, the academy buzzed with excitement. Heroes in training gathered in the great hall, boasting of magic tests and future glory. Elara sat quietly, listening.
"Did you hear?" someone whispered behind her. "He's been assigned to oversee the eastern trials."
Gasps followed.
"They're letting him teach now?"
"They say it's punishment. For him and for us."
Elara's fingers tightened around her cup. "Who?" she asked before she could stop herself.
The table fell silent.
Slowly, a girl turned toward her, eyes wide with disbelief. "You don't know?"
Elara shook her head.
The girl leaned in, voice trembling. "Kael. The villain of the story."
Elara swallowed.
So this was how it worked. They told the story so often that no one questioned it. They repeated the word villain until it replaced the man beneath it.
Later that day, she saw him again.
Up close, Kael was even more unsettling—not because he looked dangerous, but because he didn't. His presence carried a quiet gravity, the kind that pulled attention without demanding it. The training grounds fell silent as he approached, rainwater still clinging to his dark hair.
His gaze swept over the students, indifferent, distant—until it paused on Elara.
Recognition flashed between them.
"You," he said, voice low and steady.
The word sent a strange shiver through her.
"Yes?" she managed.
For a moment, something unreadable crossed his face. Then he stepped back, masking it with cold composure.
"Do yourself a favor," Kael said, turning away. "Don't get close to me."
The students whispered. Fear thickened the air.
Elara watched him walk into the shadows, her heart pounding—not with fear, but with certainty.
Because villains didn't warn you away.
And whatever story Ravenshade was telling…
Kael was not the monster they wanted her to believe.