Shadow Slave : Shadow Clan

Six Years Later

The morning sun spilled through tall windowpanes, casting threads of golden light across the polished wooden floor of Sunny's room. Dust motes swirled like memories caught mid-dance, suspended in the hush of dawn. Sunny blinked awake, lying still for a moment, letting the warmth kiss his skin.

He sat up slowly and stretched, bones groaning softly in the stillness.

The boy who had once clutched at his mother's cloak, eyes swollen with grief, was no longer the same.

Now eleven, Sunny stood taller—his build still boyish, but his frame hinted at a quiet strength. Wiry muscles coiled beneath his skin, the result of six disciplined years of training under his mother's watchful eye. His hair, black as midnight, had grown past his jaw, soft strands brushing the nape of his neck. He liked it long—it felt like a curtain between him and the world.

His eyes, though, were what set him apart.

Dark. Deep. Unfathomable.

Like an abyss that had swallowed too much for a boy his age.

He walked to the mirror and met his own gaze. The faint scar across his palm—barely a whisper of that night—remained. A reminder of the hand he held. The hand that let go.

Abel.

The thought was quiet now, like an old bell that had long stopped ringing but still echoed in the heart.

After showering, Sunny dressed in his familiar attire—black shirt, black pants, clean, quiet. He slung his bag over one shoulder and stepped into the hallway, where the scent of waffles drifted toward him like an invitation from childhood.

He followed it.

The dining hall was bathed in warm light. At the far end, Olivia stood by the stove, wearing a pale apron over a simple black dress, flipping waffles with practiced grace. Her long hair was tied back into a loose braid, and though streaks of silver shimmered through it now, her poise had not diminished.

But her eyes… they were softer now. Quieter. Like glass that had been cracked and smoothed over.

"Good morning, Mom," Sunny said, his voice lighter than it had been moments ago.

She turned, eyes catching the light—dark and full of unspoken strength.

"Good morning, my cutie pie," she replied with a smile, soft and weathered with time.

Sunny's chest ached. Not in a painful way, but in that quiet way love does when it carries too much history.

Before he could say more, a sudden thump hit his leg, and two small arms wrapped around him.

"Good morning, brother!" Rain beamed up at him.

Now seven, Rain had blossomed into a lively force of nature. Her storm-dark curls bounced as she grinned, her energy infectious. She clung to him like he was still her protector—and he was.

Sunny smiled and knelt to ruffle her hair. "Good morning, little sister."

Rain pulled back, her face immediately scrunching into a frown. "Don't call me little!"

"But you are," he teased with a glint in his eye.

She crossed her arms with a dramatic sigh. "Not forever!"

They sat together at the table. Olivia placed warm plates before them, waffles perfectly golden, steam curling up like a lullaby.

Sunny blinked. "You made waffles?"

Olivia smirked, wiping her hands on her apron. "Of course. Only the best for my two shadowlings."

Rain shoved a bite into her mouth. "Mama! Sunny called me little again!"

"He's just jealous you're going to be taller than him someday," Olivia said with a wink.

"Never!" Sunny declared.

"Also… Mom?" he added, more quietly.

"Yes?"

"When can I learn how to cook?"

Olivia tilted her head thoughtfully. "After your birthday. But only if you promise not to turn the kitchen into a battlefield."

Rain's eyes sparkled. "Can I learn too!?"

Olivia chuckled. "You? When you can use the stove without standing on a chair."

Rain giggled. Sunny laughed with her.

And for a heartbeat, it felt like nothing in the world had ever gone wrong.

—

After breakfast, Olivia slid on her coat and picked up her keys.

"Come on," she said. "Time to go. Julius is still busy at the academy, so I'm driving."

They climbed into the black car, the engine purring to life as Olivia pulled onto the sleek roads of NSQC. The city shimmered under the morning light—high towers, quiet parks, neon billboards flickering against the glass skyline.

Rain stared out the window, practically vibrating with excitement. "I can't wait to go to school!"

"Try not to drive your teachers mad," Olivia warned playfully from the front.

"I won't!" Rain paused. "Well… not all of them."

Sunny smirked and leaned his head against the window, letting the rhythm of the ride calm him. Olivia had insisted on school. Not for grades, but for life. For them. So they could have friends. So they could laugh like children were meant to.

Not just train. Not just survive.

As the car stopped at the academy gates, Sunny stepped out and helped Rain down. Olivia rolled down the window.

"Make good choices. And Sunny…"

He looked at her.

"Watch over her."

His voice was sure. "Always."

Rain dashed off with a wave.

"Bye, Mama! Bye, Sunny!"

Sunny turned—and froze.

"Morning, Sunny."

It was her.

Cassie.

The morning sun caught her golden hair, lighting it like a halo. It fell in gentle waves to her shoulders, perfectly framing her face. Her eyes—blue like a cloudless sky, filled with quiet mischief—met his with familiarity and something more.

She wore the school uniform with poise, the white blouse crisp against the navy-blue of her jacket. No blade on her hip—combat wasn't until later—but Sunny knew her skill. She moved like someone who had been born for the sword.

She was radiant.

"Morning, Cassie," Sunny said, pushing hair out of his eyes. "You look… radiant."

The word left before he could stop it.

Cassie tilted her head, amused. "Radiant?"

He cleared his throat. "Like… the sun. Bright. Warm. Not… you know. Like glowing."

She grinned. "You're the worst at compliments."

"Blame my mother," Sunny muttered.

Cassie laughed, brushing golden strands behind her ear. "Did you finish the physics homework?"

Sunny blinked. "There was homework?"

"Sunny!"

"I was sparring with Mom," he explained, sheepishly. "She was teaching me new forms."

"Well," Cassie teased, "if swordsmanship could solve equations, you'd already have a PhD."

He grinned and walked beside her, slipping back into their rhythm.

"You're the best fighter in class," she said after a pause. "Even the instructors get nervous."

"It's not enough," Sunny said. "I want to make something of my own. A style that's mine."

She looked at him quietly. "You're always chasing strength. Don't you ever want to stop and just… breathe?"

Sunny looked ahead. "If I stop… I might not be fast enough. Next time."

Cassie didn't argue.

Instead, she smiled—gently, earnestly. "If you ever do stop, even for a second… remember I'm here, okay?"

Sunny blinked, caught off-guard. "You mean… like here-here?"

She burst into laughter. "You're hopeless."

She skipped ahead, hair catching in the wind like gold ribbon.

And Sunny stood there, heart stumbling behind him.

He smiled faintly and ran to catch up.

The day had just begun.

But something about it already felt… different.

——-

The halls of the Awakened Academy stood tall and serene, the pale morning light casting long shadows through the glass-paneled corridors. The academy, one of the finest in NSQC, existed to prepare young sleepers—those yet to enter the Dream Realm—for their first descent into the Winter Solstice Trials.

Within its oldest wing, behind a door marked Wilderness and Combat Survival Division, a man sat quietly in his office, staring into the face of an old enemy.

Time.

Butler Julius, once a silent shadow in service to the House of Shadows, now wore a military-style instructor's coat embroidered with silver clasps and emblems of honor. His once-jet-black hair had faded into a stark white over the years, a slow bleed of grief and age. The man in the mirror he held in his palm looked worn—his pale eyes rimmed with fine lines, set deep with memory. The eyes of a veteran. Of someone who had survived far too much.

He sighed softly, tucking the mirror back into his inner pocket. The ache in his shoulders reminded him that he hadn't sparred today. Not that it would matter much—his days of dancing through blades like wind through leaves had long passed.

Abel's face flashed in his mind like a ghost behind his eyes.

Six years.

It still felt like yesterday.

The scream. The silence. Olivia's tears. Sunny's broken voice. The sheet covering the body.

Julius exhaled sharply and stood, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. Duty called. A file had been dropped on his desk just minutes ago—an assignment from the department: he was to evaluate a new Sleeper.

He walked through the corridors with quiet steps, nodding politely to passing students, many of whom bowed slightly in respect. His name still carried weight here, and so did his past. But he had no time for legacy today.

A knock echoed on the interview chamber's door. Julius opened it and stepped inside.

The room was spare—stone floor, a simple desk, two chairs, and a hovering orb of spirit light above, humming faintly.

And there she sat.

The girl was no child. Eighteen, by the record. She wore the uniform of the City Police—a fresh-pressed black-and-blue jacket issued only to those who had emerged from their first Nightmare and survived. The thin white stripe at her collar marked her as a true Sleeper now—a rank above civilians, but far from Awakened.

Her posture was upright, shoulders squared with disciplined tension. Her raven-black hair was cut short, just grazing her nape, and her skin was pale against the silver badge pinned over her chest.

But it was her eyes that gave Julius pause.

Cold.

Raven-dark. Sharp as knives.

Those weren't the eyes of a survivor.

They were the eyes of a predator.

He glanced at the file once more.

Name: Jet

Age: 18

Status: Sleeper (Verified)

Nightmare Realm Result: Survival/Neutralization

Affiliation: From the outskirts

Julius folded the file closed and looked at her again.

Jet looked back.

Scared

Wavering

Waiting.