**Chapter 4: Riven's Doubt**
The sound of distant voices and the faint hum of the city's recovery efforts filled the air, but inside the small, dimly lit room at the heart of the headquarters, there was only silence. Riven sat hunched over at a wooden table, his head resting in his hands, his thoughts swirling. He could still hear the echoes of the battle—the clash of swords, the screams of pain, the roars of the beasts. Most of all, he could still hear Zephyr's voice, strained with pain, as Riven had been forced to leave him behind.
"How did it come to this?" he whispered to himself, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. "I couldn't protect him. I couldn't protect anyone."
A heavy sigh escaped him, his shoulders slumping further. The weight of his responsibility felt crushing. As the leader of his group, Riven had always prided himself on his ability to make decisions, to act when needed. But after what happened, after the bloodshed, the pain of the fallen, the overwhelming failure gnawed at his confidence. What if he wasn't cut out for this? What if, despite all the training, despite all the preparation, he was simply not strong enough?
The door creaked open softly, and Riven didn't need to look up to know who it was. He could feel her presence before she even spoke.
"Riven," Lia's voice was gentle, a soothing contrast to the storm of emotions inside him. "You've been here for hours. You need rest."
"I'm not tired," Riven muttered, his voice hoarse. "How can I rest when people are dying? When I'm failing?"
Lia stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. Her footsteps were light but purposeful, and she moved to the table where Riven sat. The dim candlelight cast shadows across her face, but her eyes—those calm, perceptive eyes—never wavered. She had always been the steady anchor in the storm. The one person Riven had always turned to when he didn't know what to do.
"I understand that you're hurting," Lia said, sitting down beside him, "but brooding here isn't going to change anything."
Riven didn't respond immediately. His thoughts were too loud, too chaotic. But he appreciated her presence. He had always appreciated how she could always sense when he needed someone to just be there without asking questions. They had fought together, laughed together, and yes, suffered together. The bond between them was undeniable, built on years of friendship, trust, and shared experiences. But lately, it had begun to shift in subtle ways, a shift neither of them was ready to acknowledge, at least not openly.
"It's just... too much, Lia," Riven said quietly, his voice barely a whisper now. "The weight of it all. I thought I could handle this, but I'm just... not sure anymore."
Lia didn't say anything at first. Instead, she leaned back in her chair and studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, she spoke.
"You're not the only one feeling this way, Riven," she said, her voice steady and calm. "I think we all are. But you need to understand something. The war... it's not just about winning. It's not about the victory or the strategy, not really. It's about how you handle the losses. You can't protect everyone. You can't always win. But you have to keep going, because that's what being a leader is."
Riven's gaze fell to his hands, resting on the table in front of him. He could feel the weight of her words settling on him, but the doubt remained. He couldn't shake the image of Zephyr, lying unconscious, his life hanging by a thread. He couldn't shake the feeling that he had failed not just Zephyr, but all of them. As their leader, he should have done more. He should have been able to do something.
"How do you deal with it?" Riven asked, his voice barely audible. "The losses, I mean. The people we can't save."
Lia was quiet for a long moment, her fingers lightly tapping against the surface of the table. Then, finally, she spoke.
"I don't know if I have an answer to that," she said softly, her voice tinged with vulnerability. "I've lost people, too. People who meant everything to me. But I've learned that we can't carry that burden forever. At some point, you have to let go of the guilt and the regret. All you can do is honor their memory by continuing to fight—for them, for all of us."
Riven looked up at Lia then, his eyes meeting hers. There was a depth in her gaze that he hadn't seen before—an understanding, a quiet strength that spoke of experiences she had never shared, of things she had never said. For the first time in a long while, Riven allowed himself to truly see her, to truly recognize the weight she carried on her shoulders as well.
"You're right," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've been so focused on winning that I forgot what it really means to lead. It's not about being perfect. It's about pushing forward, even when it feels like you're losing everything."
Lia nodded, her lips curving slightly into a soft, reassuring smile. "Exactly. And Riven... you don't have to do this alone. You have us. You've always had us."
Her words, simple yet profound, settled in his chest like a balm, easing the rawness of his doubt. But even as he felt the weight of her support, there was another part of him that longed for something more. Something deeper. The connection between them had always been strong, but now, in this moment, it felt different—more intimate, more vulnerable. The years of friendship, of shared battles and struggles, had laid the foundation for something else to bloom.
He looked at Lia again, his heart beating just a little faster, but he said nothing. They both knew that the words didn't need to be spoken. The unspoken understanding was enough.
"You should rest," Lia said again, her voice softer now, almost tender. "You've earned it."
Riven hesitated, then nodded, his thoughts still heavy. He stood up, his legs stiff from hours of sitting in the same position, and walked to the small cot in the corner of the room. But even as he lay down, his mind was still racing, and his heart was still in turmoil. The burden of leadership had not lifted, nor had the pain of loss, but somehow, Lia's words had lightened the load.
As he closed his eyes, the quiet sound of Lia's breathing beside him reminded him that he wasn't alone. She was there—just as she had always been. And that small, fragile thread of connection was something that gave him strength.
Tomorrow, there would be more battles. More losses. More decisions to make. But for now, Riven allowed himself a rare moment of peace, with Lia's presence comforting him, grounding him in a way he hadn't realized he needed.
Tomorrow, they would fight again. And this time, he would be ready—not just for the battle, but for whatever came next.