Riven and Kael's duel had ended, leaving everyone frozen in shock. The echoes of clashing swords still seemed to linger in the air.
Kael stumbled backward, his legs weak, and fell onto the ground.
"You… what are you?" he stammered, eyes wide with terror. "What did you do…?"
Riven's mind raced. Now… what do I do next? The darkness inside him stirred, hungry and impatient. Time was slipping through his fingers, and he could feel the edge of something ancient and dangerous awakening within.
Darel quickly stepped in between them, his voice firm and commanding.
"That's enough for today," he said, his tone brooking no argument. "Everyone disperse."
But among the onlookers, two had witnessed something they couldn't forget. Myra and Elian had seen Riven stop just before striking Kael down completely. That split-second decision—almost supernatural in its precision—had left them frozen in place, trembling.
---
Some time later, Riven sat alone outside, wrapped in silence. The cool wind whispered around him, carrying the scent of the forest and the distant echoes of the duel.
Elian approached slowly, unsure how to break through the wall Riven had built around himself.
"Riven… how are you?" he asked softly.
Riven didn't lift his head immediately. His voice was quiet, almost weary:
"I'm fine… what about you?"
Elian hesitated, gathering courage.
"Can I ask you something… if it's okay?"
Riven furrowed his brow, a shadow of annoyance crossing his features.
"What is it?"
Elian took a deep breath, struggling to find the right words.
"During the duel… what were you thinking?"
Riven said nothing at first, the question lingering in the air like smoke.
"Riven…" Elian pressed, his tone serious now, almost pleading.
Before Riven could answer, a voice cut through the tension:
"What are you doing, weird-haired boy?"
Arden had arrived, a mocking smirk dancing on his lips.
Riven didn't turn to face him. His voice was sharp, cold:
"Don't speak to me like that."
Arden chuckled, unfazed.
"And if I do?"
Riven's eyes met his, dark and piercing.
"You will see things you won't want to see."
Arden paused for a moment, then moved closer, voice deceptively casual:
"Do you have a family, Riven?"
The air shifted instantly, heavy and tense.
Riven gritted his teeth, his patience snapping.
"Arden… don't go there," he warned.
But Arden continued, ignoring the warning, cruel amusement in his voice:
"Or… are they all dead, little boy?"
A spark ignited in Riven's eyes—an inferno fueled by years of pain and rage. His aura flared outward, tangible and oppressive. A girl passing nearby felt the surge of power and froze, whispering to herself in terror:
"This boy… like a demon… so terrifying…"
Arden, still testing the waters, pushed further:
"So… you lost your parents, huh?"
Riven rose to his feet, his gaze no longer human. His voice deepened, resonating with a darkness that made the world seem smaller, frail:
"Say my family's name again… and you die."
Arden took a cautious step back. Silence descended, heavy and suffocating. No words were spoken after that, but the expression on Riven's face was etched into the minds of all who had witnessed it—unyielding, unforgettable, lethal.