do not go gentle into that good night

The boy is the complete opposite from Blackthorne in his youth. As a pup he had been a screaming banshee, wailing a war cry at the world upon birth, alerting all within hearing distance that his heart was made of molten fire. That it would spread and consume Molodian, burning, poisoning, scorching. Nothing was safe from the path of his dark claws. It seemed now was living proof of his declarations. There had never been any doubt in the heart of the Darkbringer that he would succeed. Dark versus light, day versus night. It wasn't that the Shadow King was born with the intent to sow evil. No, he merely fell into that category by his disregard for the pain of others. Iromar was a haven to those abused, ignored, cast out, but here they could do what they pleased with few restrictions. The others in Molodian could hate him for his demands but Gazmala was full of reciprocity; she understood that to rise, one must first bow.

Hartrender is stillness and silence. There is a cunning in his watchful eyes, an intelligence in the way that he listens and succumbs. Survival instincts is what it was. That was the first step in his evolution to greatness. Understanding that in this instance he could not win but he could benefit. What was obedience in exchange for a life filled with potential? Purpose? It was nothing, a little gift that the Darkbringer would soak up.

The boy's face seems to startle at the mention of a name and Thorne's lips twitch into a smirk. Whether the boy could speak or not didn't really matter to him at the moment. A mute wolf kept secrets better anyways. "You seem pleased, Hartrender." The words are rumbled in amusement. Truly he felt powerful - to give such a gift as names. He suspects that the mere naming of the boy had already gone a long way in cementing a loyalty. Ah, what parents lacked, he made up for.

Gazmala was equally pleased at his magnanimous mood. She is devious but smart. Blackthorne grins broadly at her words, approval in his eyes. Had he not done the same to Eden? One must always hold their cards tight for the best possible outcome. "No. The gift still stands whenever you have the need to call it in." Thorne rather enjoyed the games of gifts - what would the Shadowweaver ask for? There was many possibilities and he looked forward to finding out.

Eyes trained back on Hart, who huffs quietly, his grin remains in place. "Mala, show the boy to a den and find his first meal. In the morning you will meet with Aspis to begin your training. Do not fail me, Hart. I do so hate to be disappointed." And with that, the Darkbringer flicks his ears back, turns, and departs with a jaunty step.