Riven walked toward the forest after leaving the man on the ground; his steps were heavy, his breath uneven. The sky had darkened—that day the wind was angry, and rain beat against the branches like blades. There was a loneliness among the wet leaves; as if the world had closed behind him.
He stopped at the edge of a clearing. Before him, a smaller version of himself appeared: gray hair fallen over his brow, red eyes sharper than usual. Little Riven grinned, his voice lost in the roar of the rain:
"Really, you're so weak," the small one said with a cruel, childish joke. "You brag about being a 'god'—have some shame."
Something stirred in Riven's chest; his hands trembled. Little Riven stepped forward, eyes containing that familiar cold violence.
"Give me your body," he said. "I'll do better things. I'll kill the villagers, those who killed our family… I'll wipe them out. Give me your body."
Riven was out of breath. A voice inside him broke; he wanted to scream but his throat felt knotted. Little Riven suddenly lunged at him—small but merciless. Riven reflexively threw himself aside and tried to push him away.
"Little Riven! What are you doing? Do you think you can hit me?" he said, grabbing and hurling him aside. Little Riven twisted his face, pale but proud, and shouted with fierce anger:
"You're weak! I'm ashamed of the future version of you—get up!"
Riven tried to stand, his fist clenched. "Why… don't I hit you?" he cried, his voice competing with the rain. With the power torn from his own body he wanted to prove something, but his hands still shook.
At that moment a voice rose from behind—harsh, sharp, unexpected. "Riven… how could you kill my father—"
Riven turned; a man had appeared, his face a mixture of pain and resolve. The man suddenly stabbed Riven with a knife. Riven let out a rasping sound—blood filled his mouth—and he collapsed to the ground.
Little Riven held back a laugh; surprised but mocking. "Without me doing anything—a little brat stabbed you," he laughed, his eyes burning like a red flame.
A word came out of Riven's lips with great effort: "You… damned child… I'll send you… to your father," he rasped, anger and pain tangled together. As the child drew closer, a figure sprang from the shadows.
The mysterious man held a long, gleaming katana. His movement was like the wind; with the back of the blade he dealt a heavy blow to Riven's head. Riven's vision darkened; consciousness slowly slipped away.
The mysterious man looked at the children, his voice cold but calm: "Hey, child—before you kill him, vanish from my sight."
The child paused for a moment, then quietly, grinning, melted into the shadows. As Riven writhed on the ground, the man stepped forward and rested against the katana's hilt; his figure was commanding though the rain hid his face.
After that, the forest grew even quieter; only the rain's impact remained. Riven's breath faltered—for a time he was powerless, yet the storm inside him was not extinguished. Little Riven's cry echoed in his mind: "Revenge…"
And in the distance, something else was awakening.
— The Whisper in the Shadows
The rain still fell. The wind shook the interior of the forest like a tomb. Riven lay unconscious in the rain-mixed earth, blood in the water; his face was pale, his lips trembling. The mysterious man leaning over him watched silently—there was neither hatred nor mercy in his eyes.
He sheathed the katana and watched Riven for a while.
> "I truly pity you," he said in a low voice. "Vel's curse… found you early."
While Riven was unconscious, the man stroked his head gently, like a slow father would. Then he took Riven into his arms and carried him through the rain to an old cave on the mountain's slope. The air inside was cold; faded runes marked the walls—once sacred, now forgotten signs.
The man laid Riven down and placed his hand on his chest. A dark energy flared—and Riven's wounds began to close. After a while the man stood, shouldered his katana again.
> "I'm only a shadow, child. The rest is your choice: will you be a god, or a curse?" With those words he quietly left the cave and melted into the rain—as if he had never been there.
—
Elira had seen everything from afar. Rainwater ran down her hair as she watched the mysterious man walk away. Her heart beat quickly; her footsteps were quiet but determined. She entered the cave; her eyes adjusted to the dark—her brother lay on the ground.
> "Riven!" She ran and fell to her knees. "Riven, are you okay? Hey! Riven, can you hear me?"
Riven's body still trembled; blood trickled from his brow. Suddenly his eyes opened—but the gaze didn't seem to belong to Riven. A red light flashed for a brief moment.
> "Elira…" he whispered. "Here… here he is too…"
Elira froze. "Who is here?" she asked, voice wavering. Riven's lips moved; his voice came out in another tone—more childlike, but filled with hatred:
> "Why did you leave me, sister…"
Elira stepped back, her heart tightening. At that moment Riven's face seemed to split—one side his, the other small Riven's.
> "No… no, this can't be," she said through tears. "Riven, it's you! Don't let him take you!"
Riven pressed his hands to his head and gritted his teeth. The dark aura spread again; the runes on the cave walls dimmed. Little Riven's voice echoed both from outside and within:
> "This body will be mine now. I will burn my family, my village, this cursed world to ashes!"
Elira stood up and spread her arms. Her eyes were not fearful but resolute.
> "If this curse will take you… I will fight it with you!"
At once the medallion's light flickered; Elira remembered her mother's prayers and whispered them.
> "Not with Vel's chains… with our mother's voice, wake up, brother!"
Riven screamed; black smoke poured from his body. Little Riven's silhouette separated from the darkness and became fully visible—red eyes, a pale face, half-transparent.
The two Rivens faced each other in the center of the cave—one corporeal, one spirit. Little Riven grinned:
> "I'm you… and you. Why do you resist?"
Riven lifted his eyes and looked at Elira.
> "Because… I no longer want revenge."
Little Riven's face faltered for a moment.
> "What did you say?"
Riven stood; his eyes held not anger but a weary peace.
> "My mother's peace comes not from revenge… but from silence."
Elira's eyes filled; the medallion shone. Little Riven screamed—his sound reverberated and shattered against the dark walls. Riven collapsed to his knees, his breathing heavy.
When the darkness retreated, only Riven remained. Elira quietly approached and placed her hand on her brother's shoulder.
> "Is it over?" she asked in a low voice. Riven, without raising his head, whispered: "No… Vel is still waking."
And the runes on the cave walls lit up once more— this time with a vivid red.
— While Elira held him, Riven's eyes grew heavy. The rain's sound faded; the cave's interior filled with mist. The runes still blinked in a pale red, but one of them suddenly shone— briefly, like the beating of a breathing heart.
When Riven closed his eyes, that light seeped into his dream.
—
He found himself on a battlefield. The sky was burning; the clash of steel, screams, the smell of blood mixed with mud. People ran, fighting one another; some turned into faceless figures. The ground shook with every step.
Riven was searching for someone—but he didn't know who. A silhouette suddenly emerged from the smoke. They held a sword, sadness in their eyes that felt familiar. Riven wanted to shout but no sound came.
A scream echoed. Then someone fell. He could not see who died; their face was shrouded in smoke. He only watched blood mix with the earth, then heard a whisper:
> "If you cannot protect one, you lose them all."