The mist rolled in thicker than usual, wrapping Eldralon in a dense, ghostly veil as if the village itself were trying to hide from some lurking horror. Riven walked slowly, each step heavy with a foreboding that gnawed at his insides. The air was charged with an unnatural silence, the usual hum of night creatures disturbingly absent. It was as if every living thing was hiding, holding its breath in terror of what might come.
Riven's thoughts were tangled, heavy. He'd felt an inexplicable restlessness all day, a strange pull that had urged him out tonight to the edge of the village where the ancient tree stood. Normally, he felt peace beneath the tree's sprawling limbs, but tonight the tree loomed over him, its gnarled branches twisting in the dark, like the crooked fingers of a corpse reaching for the sky.
Then, the stillness shattered. A strangled scream tore through the air, filled with a terror so raw and desperate that it scraped at Riven's spine. The sound was pure agony, a wordless plea that was abruptly silenced as though someone had ripped the air from its source.
"Beryl…" he murmured, the voice unmistakable, belonging to the old woman who had always shown him kindness. Panic surged, and he was running before he even realized it, crashing through the trees, his heart hammering, his stomach churning with dread. The shadows seemed to claw at him as he ran, the darkness dense and suffocating, like a predator closing in.
When he reached the clearing, he stumbled to a stop, his eyes widening in abject horror at the sight before him. Old Beryl lay on the ground, but she was hardly recognizable. Her body had been ravaged, torn open and eviscerated in a display of violence so savage it defied comprehension. Blood covered the ground, pooling beneath her like a dark, glistening lake, soaking into the earth. Her chest was a hollow cavity, her ribs broken and splayed open, revealing the jagged remnants of torn organs.
The stench hit him then, a thick, cloying mix of blood and decay, rancid and overpowering. It was the smell of raw, mutilated flesh, a scent that clawed its way into his lungs, making him gag. Flies were already descending on the carnage, drawn to the blood and exposed flesh, their droning buzz a sickening counterpoint to the silence.
Riven's gaze moved to her face, and he wished he hadn't looked. Her eyes were wide, glassy, staring sightlessly into the dark, frozen in her final moment of terror. Her mouth was twisted in a silent scream, lips pulled back, teeth bared in a grimace that seemed to echo the horror that had gripped her in those last seconds. Her cheeks were hollowed, her skin a deathly gray, and it looked as if something had drained the life from her, leaving behind only a desiccated husk.
As he took in the grisly scene, his stomach clenched, and he doubled over, the bile rising in his throat. He fought the urge to vomit, swallowing hard as he tore his gaze away, but something drew his eyes back, a morbid compulsion he couldn't resist.
Symbols were scrawled in blood around her body, dark and twisted shapes that seemed to writhe and twist as he stared at them. One symbol stood out—a spiral, its lines uneven and jagged, etched deep into the earth with brutal intensity. The spiral seemed to pulse faintly, casting an eerie, sickly glow that bathed the clearing in a light that was both mesmerizing and horrifying.
The whisper started then, soft and insidious, slithering into his mind like a snake. It was a low, guttural murmur, a voice that was neither human nor animal, a sound so unnatural it made his skin crawl. He couldn't understand the words, but he felt them in his bones, a language of curses and blood, of darkness and death.
"Riven…"
The voice spoke his name, the sound cold and echoing, a rasping breath that seemed to come from all around him. He looked around, his gaze darting through the shadows, but there was no one there. Only the trees, their branches twisted and gnarled, casting long, skeletal shadows across the ground.
Then he saw him.
A figure stepped out of the shadows, materializing from the darkness like a wraith. It was a man—or something that had once been a man. His skin was pale, almost translucent, stretched tight over a gaunt, skeletal frame. His eyes were hollow sockets, empty and dark, but there was something there, a glint of malice, a hunger that burned in the empty space where his soul should have been. His mouth was twisted into a grotesque grin, lips peeled back to reveal rows of teeth sharpened to jagged points, like the fangs of a predator.
Blood stained his hands, fresh and wet, dripping from his fingers in thick, viscous rivulets. He moved with an unnatural grace, his steps silent, as if he were floating, his movements slow and deliberate, like a spider approaching its prey. His gaze locked onto Riven, and a shiver ran down his spine as he felt the weight of that hollow, empty stare.
The man raised a hand, his fingers long and thin, the nails sharpened to points that glistened in the moonlight. With a slow, deliberate motion, he dipped one finger into the blood on the ground, tracing a line across his own throat in a mocking gesture, his grin widening as he did so.
Riven took a step back, his heart pounding, his mind screaming at him to run, but his body wouldn't obey. He was frozen in place, his muscles locked, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he watched the figure move closer, the stench of blood and decay growing stronger with each step.
The man stopped just a few feet away, his hollow gaze fixed on Riven, and in that moment, Riven knew with chilling certainty that he was looking into the eyes of something that was not human. This was a creature of darkness, a thing of nightmares, a twisted, malevolent force that had no place in the world of the living.
Then, just as suddenly as he had appeared, the figure stepped back into the shadows, his body dissolving into the darkness. Riven was left alone in the clearing, the silence pressing down on him like a shroud, the blood-stained ground a grim testament to the horror he had just witnessed.
He fell to his knees, his hands trembling as he gripped the earth, his mind reeling. He could still hear the whisper, that dark, guttural voice echoing in his ears, filling him with a sense of dread that he couldn't shake.
As he knelt there, surrounded by blood and death, he knew one thing with chilling certainty—whatever had happened here tonight, it was only the beginning. The darkness was coming for him, and there was nowhere left to hide.
Riven crouched beside Beryl's broken form, feeling the warmth of life drain from his surroundings. His eyes were wide, his mind a whirlwind of disbelief and horror. He could hardly process the sight before him—Beryl, sprawled on the forest floor, her body marred and twisted, her once-bright eyes now dull and empty. A distant, desperate part of him wanted to reach out, to wake her, to undo whatever twisted fate had befallen her. But he couldn't move. He couldn't breathe.
Footsteps crashed through the underbrush, tearing him from his stupor. Gareth emerged from the shadows, his face a mask of fear and shock that only deepened as he took in the grisly scene before him. His gaze locked on Riven, who was covered in mud and streaks of blood, his hands trembling, his face drained of color. For a moment, neither of them spoke, frozen in a silent tableau of terror.
"Riven…" Gareth's voice was barely a whisper, trembling with disbelief and barely-contained panic. "What… what did you do?"
Riven's mouth opened, but no sound came out. The words he wanted to say tangled in his throat, lost in the void of shock and confusion. He shook his head, willing Gareth to understand, to see the truth that he himself struggled to comprehend. "I didn't… I found her like this, Gareth, I swear…"
But Gareth took a step back, his face twisting in horror. "Don't lie to me, Riven!" His voice rose, high and shrill with panic. "I saw you, just now, hovering over her! Covered in her blood!" His hands shook as he pointed an accusing finger at Riven. "I always knew something was wrong with you. But… this? Killing her? How could you?"
The accusation landed like a blow, the shock of Gareth's disbelief turning to a cold, piercing dread. Riven stumbled back, his hands held up in a desperate plea. "Gareth, please! You have to believe me, I would never hurt her. Something else… something else did this!"
But Gareth's eyes flashed with anger, a dark, frantic anger born of fear. "You're the monster, Riven. I can see it now. All these years you've hidden it, but this is who you really are. I'm going to the village. They need to know what you are. What you did."
With that, Gareth turned and sprinted from the clearing, his footsteps echoing through the trees as he ran. "Help! Riven's a murderer!" he screamed, his voice carrying through the night. "He killed her! Someone, help!"
Riven's heartbeat thundered as he chased Gareth through the forest, the boy's panicked cries echoing in his ears. Shadows leaped across the path, twisting around them as moonlight filtered through the trees. Gareth was fast, his fear giving him strength, but Riven pushed himself harder, his mind spinning with dread. Gareth's accusations wouldn't stop, and if he reached the village, there would be no chance for Riven to explain.
"Gareth, wait! Listen to me!" Riven called, his voice ragged. But Gareth didn't stop, casting only a single, horrified glance over his shoulder before sprinting harder, his breathing frantic.
Ahead, Gareth tripped on a tangled root and stumbled, crashing into the underbrush. Riven seized the opportunity and closed the distance, grabbing Gareth's arm as he tried to rise.
"Let go of me!" Gareth shouted, struggling against Riven's grip. His eyes were wild, filled with terror as he looked up at Riven. "You're cursed, Riven! You killed her! You—"
Riven tightened his grip, desperation overtaking him. "I didn't kill her, Gareth! I found her like that—I swear! Please, just listen!"
But Gareth's expression twisted into something darker, filled with disgust and rage. "You're a monster, Riven. You're everything we feared you'd be."
The words tore through Riven like a blade. The one person he'd thought might understand, the one person he'd trusted. Something inside him snapped, a deep, raw instinct that drowned out all reason. His vision blurred, blood pounding in his ears. Before he knew what he was doing, his hands were at Gareth's throat, silencing the boy's accusations, quelling the hatred in his eyes.
Gareth clawed at Riven's hands, gasping and thrashing, but Riven's grip tightened, the weight of betrayal and horror fueling his strength. Moments felt like hours, each breath and heartbeat stretched into eternity. Slowly, Gareth's movements stilled, his hands dropping limply to his sides.
Reality crashed back, and Riven stumbled backward, staring at Gareth's motionless form. His chest heaved as he looked down at his friend—the only friend he'd ever had—now lifeless beneath him, his face frozen in horror. The truth of what he'd done settled over him like a suffocating shroud. Riven dropped to his knees, his hands trembling as he pressed them to his face, feeling the weight of blood—Gareth's blood—on his hands.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. He hadn't meant for any of this to happen. But now, Gareth was gone, and he was truly alone.
Riven forced himself to his feet, his body numb, his mind blank as he stared down at the body. He couldn't bring himself to move for several long moments. When he did, he backed away, his breaths shallow and uneven. He had to leave, to hide, to find a way to make sense of the horror that had just unfolded.
Turning, Riven melted into the darkness of the forest, leaving the scene behind, his soul burdened by a secret that would haunt him for the rest of his days.