Riven stood alone in the dark forest, his breath ragged as he hovered over the still body of Gareth, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts he couldn't control. The taste of betrayal was bitter in his mouth, yet an uneasy calm settled over him as if the storm had already passed. He was trapped in his own thoughts, struggling to reconcile the weight of what he had done—or what he'd been forced to do. Gareth had left him no choice; his words, that piercing accusation, had left him cornered.
But a faint sound cut through the silence, snapping him from his daze. His heart leaped as he turned, only to see a group of villagers emerging from the shadows, their faces twisted in horror and anger as they took in the scene before them. They stared at Gareth's lifeless form, then at Riven standing above it, and a collective murmur of shock spread through the group.
Among them, his father's gaze stood out the most, his face a mixture of disbelief and grief that sent a knife of guilt twisting through Riven's heart.
"How could you…" His father's voice trembled, his expression hardening with each word. "Riven, after everything we've taught you... you're a monster."
Riven staggered back, struck by the accusation, unable to look his father in the eye. The word "monster" echoed in his mind, sinking deep into his thoughts like a poisoned barb. A voice within him—the one he'd been trying to ignore—slithered up, filling his mind with its insidious whisper.
Run, it urged, quiet but firm, drowning out his father's words and the horrified murmurs of the crowd. Run, or fight... You know you can't stay here anymore.
The villagers closed in, their stares filled with judgment, and his father's expression only sharpened the pain searing through his mind. "You are nothing but a monster, Riven," his father repeated, a final, damning sentence that shattered the last bit of resolve holding Riven in place.
The voice spoke again, louder this time, driving him to act. Run. Riven felt his body move before his mind could catch up. His legs propelled him forward, tearing through the dense undergrowth as he fled, his heartbeat pounding like a war drum in his chest. He didn't look back, didn't dare meet the eyes of those he'd once called his people. Memories flashed through his mind with each frantic step, fragments of a life he'd now lost forever. Each memory stoked the fire in his heart until it became a storm, an all-consuming fury and grief he could hardly contain.
But the villagers weren't far behind. Their footsteps and voices rang out through the forest as they gave chase, shouting accusations and curses that chased him as relentlessly as his own shame. The memory of his father's words haunted him, his face twisted with disgust, and Riven knew there was no going back.
He stumbled into a clearing and came to a sudden stop, staring out at the massive cliff before him, where the earth dropped away into a yawning chasm. He turned, seeing the villagers emerge from the trees, his father among them. The cold, condemning look in his father's eyes left no room for doubt; they would never believe him, never accept that he was anything but the monster they now saw him as.
The voice whispered once more, barely audible but so forceful that it felt like a command etched into his very bones. Jump.
Riven's gaze dropped to the edge of the cliff, his breaths coming fast as he weighed the terrible choice before him. The villagers drew nearer, and in a last desperate moment, his father threw a knife, the blade cutting through the air and grazing his cheek by a mere inch. It was enough to break whatever resolve remained. Riven turned and let himself fall backward, surrendering to the abyss below.
The last thing he saw was the shocked faces of the villagers, framed by the fading light above as he plunged into darkness.
---
Time seemed to stretch and shatter as Riven fell, his mind drifting in and out of consciousness. But when he awoke, he found himself surrounded by darkness. The air was thick and cold, the scent of damp earth and old rot filling his senses. He was no longer in the world he knew; he was somewhere else entirely, somewhere twisted and ancient.
A faint flicker of light caught his eye, and he realized he was staring at a campfire, its embers crackling softly. His body ached, but somehow he had survived, though he had no idea how or why. He forced himself to sit up, and as he did, memories flooded back—the chase, the cliff, the betrayal in his father's eyes. It felt unreal, like some twisted dream, yet he could still feel the ache in his chest, the raw, hollow pain that gnawed at him.
For a while, he sat in silence, staring into the flames, his mind spiraling deeper into despair. But then he became aware of a presence, a dark figure sitting across from him on the other side of the fire.
Riven stiffened, his instincts on high alert, though he kept his face calm and his posture unthreatening. He met the figure's gaze, noticing the man's piercing eyes, cold and unyielding as they studied him in silence.
The figure finally spoke, his voice like a slow, creeping chill. "You've had a rough night, haven't you?"
Riven didn't respond, only narrowed his eyes, his guard still up. The figure continued, his tone unchanging. "I am called Maurs. I doubt that name means anything to you now, but it has endured through centuries, long before you were born."
The weight of Maurs' words settled heavily in the air, and Riven sensed an agelessness in the man's voice that sent a shiver down his spine. "Eight hundred years," Maurs said, as if reading Riven's thoughts. "I have witnessed more lives and deaths than you can imagine."
Riven held his gaze, the fire between them casting shifting shadows across both of their faces. There was a tension, a strange undercurrent to Maurs' words that left him uneasy, as if he was being studied, weighed and measured.
"I know what you are feeling," Maurs continued. "Betrayal. Loss. Rage." He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a murmur. "These things can be a burden—or they can be a strength."
Riven's fists clenched as Maurs spoke, the memories of the villagers' faces, his father's final words, surfacing in his mind. The voice that had haunted him, that had urged him to flee, stirred again, a dark and comforting presence in the back of his mind.
"Why did you survive that fall, Riven?" Maurs asked, his voice both challenging and gentle. "Perhaps fate has a different path in store for you."
Riven took a steadying breath, but his gaze didn't falter. For the first time since the night began, a strange sense of purpose settled over him. He didn't know what lay ahead, but he could feel something shifting within, a transformation born of fire and betrayal.
As the flames crackled between them, Riven's mind raced, grappling with the weight of the stranger's words. There was something eerie, almost predatory, in Maurs' gaze, a depth that spoke of hidden motives and unfathomable knowledge. It wasn't the comforting look of a mentor or a guide but the cold, assessing stare of someone who saw potential—in both light and darkness—and was willing to cultivate it no matter the cost.
"I know what you are," Maurs said, his voice barely above a whisper, yet it carried with it a chilling certainty. "You are a broken soul, yet you cling to the shreds of your humanity. But that pain you feel, that rage—it's fuel, Riven. It can give you strength beyond anything you've known… if you embrace it."
Riven's jaw tightened, his eyes fixed on the fire as memories of his village—the only home he had ever known—played like shadows in his mind. He could still see the disbelief in his father's eyes, the horror etched on the faces of the villagers as they condemned him without question. The sting of betrayal coursed through him, hardening into something raw and jagged. And for the first time, he didn't try to push it away.
He looked up, meeting Maurs' gaze head-on, his own eyes reflecting the fire's light with a new, determined gleam. "Why are you here?" he asked, his voice steady despite the turmoil within.
Maurs' lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn't reach his eyes. "Because, Riven, I know what it's like to be cast aside, to be blamed for things beyond your control. And I know the power that lies within that rejection. It can be a source of strength—or it can destroy you. I'm here because you have a choice to make."
Riven swallowed, the weight of Maurs' words settling heavily over him. He knew the man was right; he could feel the darkness pressing against the edges of his mind, begging to be let in, to consume him. And yet, something in him resisted, clinging to the faint hope that there was still a shred of the boy he once was left within him.
"What do you want from me?" Riven demanded, his voice laced with a wary defiance.
"Want?" Maurs echoed, his tone almost amused. "I want nothing but to offer you a truth, Riven. A truth that most spend their entire lives running from." He leaned closer, his face illuminated by the fire's flickering glow, and for a brief moment, Riven glimpsed something ancient, almost monstrous, beneath the man's calm demeanor. "Power lies in pain, Riven. In suffering. Embrace it, and you will never be powerless again."
Riven felt a chill run down his spine, but he didn't break Maurs' gaze. There was a strange allure in the man's words, a twisted promise of strength that resonated with the part of him that had been shattered by the night's events. But at what cost?
Maurs leaned back, as if sensing Riven's hesitation. He lifted one hand, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he traced a pattern in the air, leaving a faint, shimmering trail of energy that hung between them. Riven watched in fascination as the energy twisted and coiled, forming symbols he didn't recognize but instinctively understood were ancient, powerful, and forbidden.
"This is not a path for the faint of heart," Maurs murmured, his voice filled with an almost fatherly patience. "But it is one that can grant you the strength you seek. If you choose to walk it, there is no turning back."
Riven hesitated, his mind a storm of emotions and conflicting desires. He could still feel the faint echo of his father's words, the accusation that had branded him a monster in the eyes of everyone he had ever loved. But the pain of that rejection, that loss, had twisted into something darker, a hunger for vengeance that pulsed in his veins like poison.
And in that moment, he understood what Maurs was offering him. It wasn't redemption. It wasn't even hope. It was power, raw and unfiltered, and it was the only thing that could fill the emptiness gnawing at his soul.
Slowly, Riven extended his hand toward the symbols, feeling the energy crackle against his fingertips like lightning. The moment he touched it, a surge of darkness washed over him, filling him with a sense of purpose that was both exhilarating and terrifying. He felt his own doubts, his fears, his lingering sense of humanity slip away, replaced by a cold clarity that cut through his mind like a blade.
Maurs watched in silence, his gaze unreadable as Riven's expression shifted, hardening into something unrecognizable. The fire between them flared, casting their shadows long and twisted across the forest floor, and for a brief moment, Riven felt as though he were looking at a stranger—a creature forged from the very pain that had threatened to consume him.
When the energy finally faded, Riven lowered his hand, his gaze cold and unyielding. He looked at Maurs, feeling a newfound sense of control, a strength he had never known.
"What now?" he asked, his voice devoid of the boyish uncertainty that had once defined him.
Maurs smiled, his eyes gleaming with a dark satisfaction. "Now, we begin."