The city of Valcrest was nothing like it once was. The air felt heavier now, weighed down by the secrets that were slowly rising to the surface. In the shadow of its towering walls, the game was beginning to shift—unseen, but inevitable. And at its center stood Riven Aldric, a figure draped in darkness, waiting for the moment to strike.
He stood on the balcony of the academy's highest tower, his gaze fixed on the far horizon where the silhouette of the Council's mansion loomed. A looming monument to arrogance and power, a structure built on the belief that no one could touch them, no matter how deep their sins ran.
But they were wrong. So wrong.
Riven's lips curled into a cold smile. Tonight, the first target would fall.
His first revenge. The first of many.
Lord Everan.
Riven had watched the noble's rise and fall over the years with a calculating eye, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. The time had come. The moment was ripe. Lord Everan, a man who had manipulated his way into power by feeding off the kingdom's wealth, would pay for his transgressions. His involvement with the merchant guilds had already made him a target, but it was the truth behind his debt—the betrayal of his own people—that would be his undoing.
And Riven was going to be the one to expose it.
Memories of the Past
The winds shifted, pulling Riven back to a moment from years ago—a memory buried beneath the weight of his ambition, a moment that shaped him into the man he had become.
He was twelve years old, standing in the ruins of his family's estate. The fire still smoldered, the scent of burning wood and flesh lingering in the air. His mother had been crying, her face streaked with soot and ash, her hands shaking as she tried to protect him. But it was too late.
The betrayal had already begun.
His father, once a powerful lord in the kingdom, had been brought low by the very men he trusted. Men like Lord Everan. It was a plot that had been years in the making—one that started with whispers in the shadows and ended in flames.
Riven had stood there, frozen, watching the flames consume everything his family had built. His father's legacy was erased in an instant, and the academy became his refuge, a place to hone his skills, to rebuild himself from the ground up.
But the anger never left.
He hadn't forgotten the look in his father's eyes as he died—betrayed by the very people he had fought for. Riven's fists clenched, the memory fueling the fire that burned inside him.
He wasn't going to let Lord Everan get away with it. No one ever got away with anything—not in his world.
The Hunt Begins
The academy's courtyard was quiet as night descended, the students having long since retreated to their rooms. But Riven wasn't like the others. He had no time for sleep. He had a target to eliminate.
The plan had already been set in motion. Lysara had done her part—slipping the incriminating documents into the hands of the right people. And now, it was time for Riven to deliver the final blow.
Lord Everan had been too careless, too confident in his power. He believed he was untouchable, hidden behind layers of wealth and influence. But no one was untouchable. Not anymore.
Riven moved like a shadow through the academy, his footsteps silent against the stone floors. His crimson eyes gleamed with anticipation, the thrill of the hunt coursing through his veins. This was what he had been waiting for—the moment when the world would see the cost of betrayal.
In the distance, the faint glow of torchlight illuminated the path toward the council chambers. Riven's pulse quickened, his muscles coiling in preparation.
It was time.
The Council's Mansion
The mansion loomed before him, its walls adorned with intricate carvings of power and wealth. The path leading to the entrance was lined with tall statues, each one a tribute to the noble families that had ruled the kingdom for generations. But to Riven, it was nothing more than a monument to their arrogance. A place built on lies, deception, and corruption.
The guards at the gate barely noticed him. He had already disabled the security systems, a simple task for someone who had spent years learning the art of stealth and manipulation. His crimson cloak blended into the night, his presence like that of a passing breeze.
Riven approached the mansion's entrance, his heart steady, his mind sharp. There were no emotions here—no hesitation, no regret. There was only the mission.
As he entered the mansion, he allowed himself a single moment to appreciate the grandeur of the place. But it wasn't the opulence that mattered. It was the power hidden behind the walls, the influence that ran through its veins. And that power—like all power—was built on weakness.
Riven moved through the halls with ease, his steps silent as he approached Lord Everan's private quarters. The documents that Lysara had stolen were already in the hands of the right people, the scandal about to break wide open. But Riven had one more thing to do—to deliver the final, damning piece of the puzzle.
He entered the chamber with the fluidity of a shadow, the air growing colder as the door shut behind him. Lord Everan was sitting at his desk, his back turned, unaware of the storm approaching.
Riven's presence was felt the moment he entered the room. Everan's eyes flicked toward him, his hand moving instinctively toward the dagger hidden beneath his robes.
But it was too late.
The room erupted with the crackle of power, a burst of energy emanating from Riven's body like a shockwave. He moved faster than Everan could react, his hand latching onto the noble's wrist, twisting it with precision. The dagger fell to the floor, useless.
Everan's eyes widened in panic. "Who… who are you?!"
Riven's voice was cold, calculated. "I am the one who will bring you to your knees."
With a swift motion, Riven slammed Everan into the desk, his hand closing around the noble's throat. Everan gasped for breath, his fingers clawing at Riven's wrist as he struggled to break free.
"You thought you were untouchable," Riven whispered, his voice a deadly hiss. "But power isn't something you inherit—it's something you take."
The noble's face turned red, his body writhing as Riven tightened his grip. Memories of his family's fall flashed before him—his father, burning in the flames of betrayal, his mother's screams echoing in his mind.
No one would escape.
The memories fueled him, the fire in his chest burning hotter. He wasn't just taking revenge for himself—he was taking it for all the people who had suffered at the hands of men like Everan. For every noble who thought they could control the lives of others without consequence.
Everan's struggle grew weaker, his face turning blue as Riven's grip tightened. Finally, with one last, crushing motion, he snapped the noble's neck.
The room fell silent, the only sound the soft hum of the flickering torchlight.
Riven stood over the fallen body, his breath steady, his expression emotionless. He had done it. He had taken the first step.
But this was only the beginning.
The Price of Power
Riven's mind was clear, his body calm as he left the council mansion, stepping back into the cold embrace of the night. His first strike had been delivered, but the true game had just begun. Lord Everan's death would be seen as an accident, a natural death in the eyes of those who didn't know better. But Riven knew the truth. He knew what it meant.
The nobles would tremble when they realized who had struck the first blow.
As he made his way back to the academy, a thought lingered in his mind—an unsettling, but necessary thought.
No one would be safe.
The game was afoot. The players would move, the pieces would fall, and in the end, there would be only one left standing. And that person—that person would be Riven Vade.