Riven stirred on the cold yet surprisingly comfortable metal bed in Terra's facility. His vision returned slowly, resolving into the familiar ceiling of tangled roots and vines. Soft green and purple light glowed from below, casting strange shadows across the organic lattice above.
No ceiling lights, huh…
The memory of what had happened rushed back all at once, the lingering haze lifting like a curtain torn aside. His breath hitched. He shot upright and rubbed at his eyes, clearing away the crust and lingering fuzziness.
He froze mid-motion.
His right hand.
It was moving.
Excitement surged through him as he dropped back onto the bed, lifting his arm and turning it over, flexing his wrist, his fingers, each joint responding perfectly. No pain. No resistance. As if nothing had ever happened.
A grin spread across his face.
Carefully, he began channeling mana toward the arm, only to pause when he noticed both of his cores were completely full. That alone told him he'd been out for a long while.
The faintest thread of pink mana slipped from his core-
-and a vine snapped down from the ceiling in a blur.
It wrapped firmly around his bicep, halting the flow instantly.
"None of that," a sharp voice cut in from his left. "You're not to channel any mana into that arm for at least a day."
Riven blinked and immediately let the mana recede. He turned his head towards the noise.
In the far corner, Terra sat hunched over her desk, scribbling furiously across scattered papers, her silver hair catching the colored light. Roman stood nearby, his body wrapped in fresh bandages all the way up to his neck.
Roman glanced over, brow furrowing slightly. "Yeah, kid. From what she tells me, you really did a number on that arm."
He shook his head once. "A bit more and only the patriarch of house Seraphelle could have fixed it."
The words settled heavily.
Riven scratched the back of his head, the reality of his injury slowly sinking in. Roman wasn't finished. "So stay away from mana imbuement for the time being. Got it?"
Riven nodded quickly as a new thought struck him. He scanned the room instinctively, searching for a window-any sense of the outside.
Nothing.
He swung his legs off the bed and stood, only then realizing his torso was still bare. Before he could ask, Roman was already moving.
"I've got a spare set of basic leather armor," Roman said, stopping in front of him. "And for the record-it's around midnight. You were out like a candle. It took one of Terra's concoctions to wake you up."
Midnight? Riven latched onto that word, disregarding everything else.
His face went stiff. That meant he'd been missing for about three days.
Mom…
He swallowed hard, then looked up. "Roman. Thank you-for everything. But I need to go home. Now. Before-"
A hand settled firmly on his shoulder.
"I know," Roman said quietly. "That's the plan."
He lifted his other arm, revealing a careful stack of gear balanced on his palm, leather armor pieces, folded cloth, and a massive scythe. How he balanced all of it in one hand was beyond Riven.
"Take these. Let's get you home."
Riven didn't hesitate. He pulled on the light brown shirt that felt like it were made from cotton. Once snugly on, he fitted the leather torso pieces and shoulder pads over it. Only then did his eyes linger on the scythe.
The silver blade gleamed even in the dim light, its dark wooden shaft polished smooth.
"Are you sure?" he asked. "This looks… expensive."
Roman huffed softly and nudged it closer. "Take it. At least use the weapon you actually trained with instead of whatever junk you find lying around."
Then his expression changed. The smile vanished, replaced by something harder.
"Riven," he said, voice low. "Do not come back to the Lower District for at least a week. And don't seek me out again."
This caught Riven off guard and confusion flared, quickly turning into anger. "But—"
"No," Roman cut in sharply. "No buts."
His gaze hardened. "Aerthus is most likely dead. That means the Black Ledger will get involved. I wouldn't be surprised if they've already started investigating."
He closed his eyes briefly, taking a slow breath before opening them again.
"This time, listen to me," he said. "Do not come back. Understood?"
Riven stared at Roman in disbelief. What does the Black Ledger have to do with me? It wasn't as if they had killed Aerthus. He wanted to argue that point, to say it outright, but the intensity in Roman's gaze stopped him cold.
"Understood?" Roman repeated.
Riven swallowed and nodded. "Understood."
"Good." Roman exhaled slowly. "I'll have Lucian take you home. This is farewell."
As soon as the words left his mouth, the man with silver hair and silver eyes stepped into the room and took position near the entrance. That must be Lucian, Riven realized.
Lucian turned toward him, expression unreadable. "Lead the way."
Riven stood frozen for a heartbeat, indecision gripping him. Then his mother's face surfaced in his mind. She had to be worried sick, especially with his father still out on expedition.
Right now I need to get home. I'll figure out the rest later.
With his mind made up, he turned towards the woman still scribbling furiously at her desk. "Thank you, Terra," he yelled out loud enough for her to hear.
In response, she waved with her left hand without looking up, the long sleeves of her white coat fluttering as though she were signaling a flag.
Riven smiled faintly, then turned to Roman and gave him a short nod. Without another word, he headed down the corridor leading outside, Lucian falling into step behind him.
The walk home was quiet. The city slept beneath a blanket of darkness, street lamps casting dim pools of light along empty roads. They travelled in complete silence and soon, his district came into view. Beyond it, the bronze gate leading to his residence gleamed faintly in the night.
As they neared it, Lucian finally spoke. "Heed the boss's warning. For your own sake."
Without waiting for a response, he swiftly turned and walked away, disappearing back into the shadows.
Riven paused, drawing in a deep breath before reaching for the gate. He pushed it open and stepped inside, heading toward the main building on the left.
Not a second had passed, that the ground shifted beneath his feet.
Roots shot up suddenly, coiling around his legs and anchoring him in place.
Not again, he thought wearily, already exhausted by the day's events.
Almost as quickly as they appeared, the roots loosened and sank back into the earth.
"Riven!"
He looked up just in time to see his mother running toward him. Her raven-black hair, streaked with deep purple, streamed wildly behind her.
He didn't move.
She reached him and pulled him into a tight embrace, then immediately smacked the back of his head. The blow wasn't strong enough to hurt, but it stung all the same.
"You have alot ofvexplaining to do, young man," she said sharply, though the smile on her face betrayed her anger.
Riven stayed silent. Experience had taught him that arguing now would only make things worse. He let himself be guided inside.
Despite the late hour, Alfred stood nearby, attentive as ever. His mother gave him a subtle signal as she led Riven toward the living room. Alfred bowed and quietly took his leave.
They sat across from each other on opposite sofas, the room heavy with tension.
"Now," she said, folding her arms, "explain where you've been for the past three days."
Riven hesitated. Do I lie? Do I tell only part of it?
The worry in her eyes, mixed with frustration, decided it for him.
He took a deep breath. "It's a long story," he began. "But basically…"
When Riven finished recounting everything, leaving out not a single detail, his mother suddenly straightened. The anger in her eyes was immediate and fierce.
"Those bastards," she snapped. "Who do they think they are, mistreating my boy?" Her hands clenched at her sides. "It's a good thing that scumbag is dead."
She paused, her expression shifting as she thought, then turned and began pacing toward the door. "Don't worry, Riven. I'll be damned if the Black Ledger even thinks about accusing you of anything. I'll send word to father and to Aunt Alexa."
Grandfather? Riven wondered. His mother rarely spoke of him without using particularly colorful language. He sighed and slumped back into the couch as the tension finally drained from his body.
Only then did he realize something strange. He wasn't hungry. Not even a little.
Just before reaching the city gates, his stomach had been screaming at him. Now, after waking up in Terra's facility, he felt completely full.
Must be a side effect of her treatment, he decided.
His mother had nearly reached the door when she froze, bringing a palm to her face. "Damn it. I shouldn't have sent Alfred away. You're probably starving."
Riven chuckled softly. "Don't worry, Mom. Whatever that crazy doctor girl did to me also seems to have filled my stomach."
She turned back and studied him closely, searching for a lie. Finding none, she huffed lightly. "She sounds like an interesting person. Maybe I'll seek her out later and ask for advice on my healing potions."
They spoke for a while longer, the edge slowly fading from the night. Eventually, his mother insisted he get some rest and told him they would speak to his grandfather in the morning.
Riven didn't argue. He headed straight for his room, pausing only to remove the scythe from his back and set it carefully beside the door, blade resting against the floor.
It's been a while, he thought quietly. The hunter's life isn't easy.
He showered quickly, then collapsed onto his bed, exhaustion claiming him the moment his head hit the pillow. Darkness swallowed his vision almost instantly.
It felt as though he had only just closed his eyes when hands began shaking his shoulder.
"Riven."
A muffled voice pulled him back toward consciousness.
What now, he thought groggily, unaware that morning had already come. Bright sunlight filtered through the curtains to his left as he forced his eyes open.