The tremor starts in my bones.
A pulse runs through the cavern walls, shaking dust from the ceiling.Then come the voices—shouted orders, the metallic chorus of armour and steel.Yara’s acolytes scatter into the shadows.
I know the voice before I see him.
Riven.
He steps through the breach, chainmail stained, light leaking from cracks in the mail like molten gold.His eyes are alight with amber.They find Seren first.“Shadowborne monster,” he breathes.Then they find me.“And you—traitor.”He spits on the ground with enough ferocity to burn a hole in the dirt.
Seren moves in front of me, her arms wrapping back as if to shield me.I nudge her away, stepping past her toward Riven.
The chill spreads through my veins, igniting them in a blaze of frozen fire.My eyes buzz, distorting my vision at the edges.Embers burn deep within, summoning power to my fingertips—but instead of the familiar warmth, I’m met with pulsating, icy blue rays that itch to be released.
A wrinkle forms on Riven’s nose.“What have you become, Lightborne?”His palms stretch wide as power surges, the air cracking like whips around him.
“Whatever I’ve become,” I sneer, “it’s better than what you choose to be.”
My veins vibrate like live wires, buzzing with a raw, electric current that seeks an escape I don’t know how to release.
Riven’s men pile out of the tunnel, forming an arc surrounding us.The power speaks a language I don’t yet understand; a torrent of instinct and impulse I can’t translate into action.
Seren notices my hesitation.She reaches out a mental hand toward me.My walls of resistance crumble as a tendril of consciousness stretches the space between us, exposing my mind and soul.Her voice is urgent and breathless:Does now constitute a good time to unleash the shadows?
I pause, eyes glued to Riven.
Do it.
As if responding to my silent command, the air thickens.Wisps of shadow boil outward, creating a suffocating wall of moving darkness that swallows the distance to Riven’s line.Seren moves closer, staff raised high, glowing with violet intent—commanding the darkness like a seasoned hand.
Bones snap.Screams tear through the cloud of black—then vanish.All that remains is an eerie quiet, and Riven, standing alone.The broken bodies of his loyal ones litter the ground like fallen leaves after a storm.His face is ashen, his amber eyes dulled to copper.The light within him sputters.
The shadows retreat, slithering back to tuck tight against Seren’s frame.She advances, her eyes glowing the same violet hue as the staff at her side.A deep growl tears from Eira’s throat, arming every follicle on my body with a sharp, defensive needle.
Seren’s hair whips around her as if carried on a wind.She is pure power; an ethereal goddess made flesh.And for the first time, she frightens me as much as she fascinates me.
The sight stirs something deep within.Something I can’t explain, but wish to explore.
“I wonder what my staff would make of you, High Commander.”Her voice is silk-smooth, but isn’t hers.It’s the voice that caresses my mind like a forbidden lover.
“I wonder whether the Light swirls beneath your skin…” She mimics pointing the sigil into Riven’s face.His copper eyes reflect a purple sheen.“Shall we find out?”
Her lips curve upward, but the tight set of her jaw betrays a true, cruel emotion.Riven reaches into his pocket, the vitreous lustre of the miren crystal glowing beneath his skin; it sputters like a flame on the verge of extinguishing.His fingers tremble, urging the power to reignite, but it’s no use.
Sweat beads his forehead and runs down his temples, dropping onto his chainmail.His eyes widen, pupils dilating as they follow the path of the approaching sigil.Seren thrusts the edge of the staff to Riven’s forehead, sending violet waves pulsing outward in undulating rings.
Wind courses through me as the power tingles beneath my skin.Riven stands frozen, shoulders pulled back and head held high, ready to meet his demise and favoured god.
I should feel bad for him—watching a High Commander of my own house readied for slaughter at the hands of our enemy.
But I don’t.
I welcome the end he shall meet.
His mocking smile is tight and unwavering—stoic even in the face of death.Seren pushes hard against the staff, forcing more light to thread into Riven’s mind.His eyes roll back, leaving only the whites exposed.Muscles flicker in his jaw, teeth biting hard against the pain weaving through his body.
“I will not kill you, High Commander,” Seren says, her voice riding the storm she commands.“I will not grant you an easy death.Instead—” Her arm shakes from the weight of the staff.“—I shall give you a painful life, making you the shell of a man that you are.”
A harsh, dry cackle erupts from her, sounding like dry leaves scuffing against stone.
