Blood-Written Silence
Riven lifted his head, pressing his palms against his temples.
"Ah, damn it… I can't take this anymore!" he muttered through clenched teeth. "My head is splitting… I'm sick of these dreams."
For a moment, he fell silent. Then a cold, twisted thought crossed his face. He whispered to himself, low and vile:
> "What if… I just wiped out every human being?"
Just then, his sister entered the room.
The moment she felt the dark aura surrounding him, her face stiffened.
"Riven! Whatever you're thinking—don't you dare!" she shouted.
Riven took slow, heavy steps toward her. His eyes were glacial.
"The little boy you knew is gone," he said, calm but razor-sharp. "I am the god of this world now. If I wish it, I can kill anyone."
His sister trembled. "Even me?" she asked, her voice barely holding together.
Riven stopped, drew a deep breath. His eyes held pain—but also resolve.
"Yes… even you."
Her face twisted in horror. She slapped him across the arm, trembling.
After the slap, Riven spoke with a startling serenity:
"I want you… to kill me."
The words were cold; their weight echoed through the room.
His sister froze, tears welling in her eyes. "What are you saying? How could you… say something like that?" she whispered, voice cracking.
Riven dropped his shoulders, trying to hide the emptiness within.
"I don't feel anything anymore," he said softly. "If ending me is what this world needs… then so be it."
His sister knelt down, took his trembling hands.
"You're my brother," she cried. "I won't lose you—not when I've just found you."
Her voice trembled but stayed firm: "I'll do whatever it takes to stop you, but I won't choose to kill you."
Riven said he felt nothing in her embrace; yet for the briefest moment, a faint spark glimmered in his eyes—then died out.
All that remained inside him was power and darkness.
---
Fracture
As his sister held him, the air in the room shifted.
Riven's gaze froze on something beyond her shoulder.
There—just a few steps away—
stood a small boy.
Gray hair falling over his forehead, crimson eyes gleaming in the dark.
That boy… was Riven himself. His younger self.
Riven's breath caught.
His pupils dilated; his voice trembled.
"Ah… no… you… who are you?!"
The small boy tilted his head slightly, eyes empty.
Then he stepped forward—each footstep echoing.
Riven screamed:
> "AHHHHHHHHH!"
His sister flinched, grabbing him.
"Riven! Hey, what's happening? Are you okay?" she cried.
Riven's fingers shook.
"There's something here! It's watching me! Its eyes—red!" he said, voice filled with panic.
His sister turned behind her, but saw nothing.
"Riven, there's no one there!" she said, trying to mask her fear.
Riven's face was drenched in sweat.
"No! It's here! It's still looking at me… how—how is that possible?!"
The little boy—now faceless—took another step.
There was only emptiness where his face should've been.
Riven's voice quivered:
> "It has no face… w-what is that!?"
His last words turned into ragged breaths.
"Haah… haah…"—then his knees buckled.
"Riven!" his sister screamed,
but he had already collapsed.
In the reflection of Riven's fading eyes, the small boy smiled one last time—
and vanished into silence.
---
When He Awoke
Riven opened his eyes. No one was there.
A ringing hum filled his head as he slowly sat up.
"I'll just… get some water," he muttered.
He reached out for the glass beside him—felt the cold wet surface—then it slipped from his fingers and shattered on the floor.
When he looked up, the small Riven was standing before him.
Riven's breath hitched. The glass slipped completely.
"Who… are you?" he asked in a trembling whisper.
The child spoke slowly, voice eerily familiar:
"I'm you. The future you. Have you avenged our family yet?"
His red eyes burned with fury.
"Don't you remember? They died before our mother's eyes! Have you forgotten everything?"
Riven's chest tightened; every breath hurt.
"I… I'm sorry. I don't understand. I can't even remember my mother's face… or father's…" he murmured weakly.
The little Riven stood, his steps sharp and certain.
"If you don't take revenge," he said darkly, "Vel will turn you into something far worse."
The words lingered in the air—both threat and promise.
Then he faded away.
Just then, his sister's voice broke through:
"Riven! Are you okay? Your arm—it's bleeding! The glass, what happened? Why didn't you call for me?"
She knelt beside him, hands trembling.
---
Fracture (The Decision)
When she saw him curled on the ground, her heart dropped.
Blood trickled down his arm; she pressed her hand over the wound.
"Wake up! Please wake up!" she begged.
Riven felt distant, as if watching from far away. His eyes were dull, glassy.
His sister rummaged through a drawer—her fingers brushed against an old, rusted locket. Her eyes filled with tears.
"This… it was Mother's," she whispered. "Maybe… maybe you'll remember."
Holding her breath, she pressed the locket against his chest.
In that instant, an image flashed in Riven's mind—his mother's pale hand fixing her necklace, a child's voice, a shadow.
Riven's lips parted; his voice came as a faint whisper:
"I forgot… I forgot everything…"
His sister sank to her knees, grief gleaming in her eyes.
"Is anyone listening? My brother, please. Remember us."
Her fingers tangled in his hair as she murmured a half-forgotten lullaby—broken, but filled with meaning.
A faint light shimmered on the locket's metal; a chill crept across Riven's chest.
But instead of warmth, it burned—like a spark swelling into rage.
Riven's eyes cleared for a heartbeat, then darkened again.
A sharp, inner voice rose inside him: "REVENGE."
He tried to stand, body trembling under the force inside him.
"Stay here!" his sister shouted in panic.
But something inside Riven opened—an inner door unsealed.
His lips moved on their own: "I'm leaving."
He stepped toward the door. His sister grabbed his arm—her fingers slipped away.
Riven glanced back once. In her eyes shimmered a fragile hope.
If I don't return… then kill me, he thought—an unspoken vow, heavy as a curse.
Then he was gone—silent, determined, cold.
Night waited beyond the door: distant inn lights, wagon wheels, and the scent of blood carried by the wind.
Inside his mind, the child's voice still echoed:
"Did you avenge your family?"
Riven took another step.
Deep inside, a broken fragment whispered back:
"Revenge… revenge…"
His sister ran to the doorway, watching helplessly as Riven vanished into the shadows.
---
Blood-Written Silence
Riven walked down the dark forest path.
The moonlight cut through the branches like shards of broken glass.
His eyes no longer belonged to him—cold, red, empty.
Two figures watched from afar: Max and Darel.
Max spoke first, his voice hushed:
"This isn't… our Riven anymore."
Darel's eyes narrowed; he didn't even breathe.
"No," he said quietly. "Not anymore."
Before Riven knelt an old man—the one responsible for his family's death.
His face was aged, but the same cowardly fear still lingered in his eyes.
He whimpered,
"Please… don't do this… I—I was only following orders…"
Riven bent down, staring into the man's eyes.
In a voice cold as steel, he whispered:
"I lost my mother because of you."
Then he raised his hand, and darkness itself seemed to pour from his fingertips.
The man's scream died instantly. His eyes went vacant.
Riven stood up, silent.
The body at his feet grew cold.
Through the whispering wind, he heard his own voice echo—
a hollow reflection of his soul:
> "Revenge."
Max fell to his knees, clutching his head.
"My god…" he breathed. "He… he really killed him."
Darel said nothing. His eyes held not fear—but grim recognition.
With a hard tone, he said:
"Riven is gone.
That thing…
is something else now.
That's the Curse of God itself."
Riven walked away without a glance.
Moonlight struck his back—and for a fleeting moment, two shadows appeared:
one tall, one small.
The smaller one… still watched him with crimson eyes.
---