Recap
In the rain-slick square, Riven met a mysterious girl who claimed to be his only chance at surviving the hunters closing in. Against the sword's warning, he took her hand. Now, she's leading him into the depths of Blackstone… and the deeper they go, the less the city feels like it obeys normal rules.
Part 1 — Alleys That Shouldn't Exist
The girl didn't slow, not even for the sharp turns.
Her cloak snapped behind her like a shadow with a mind of its own.
Riven followed, his boots splashing through puddles, the cold air burning his lungs. He didn't dare look over his shoulder — not because she told him not to, but because he felt the weight of the hunters at his back.
They turned down an alley that was barely wide enough for a man to pass. Lantern light vanished behind them, replaced by the dim glow of moss clinging to the wet bricks.
The sword pulsed in his grip. "These streets… they're wrong. You've been turned."
Riven frowned. "Turned?"
"The city shifts. Alleys you've walked a hundred times change. Doors vanish. Stairs lead to walls. It's not magic. It's hunger."
Ahead, the girl glanced back at him, her eyes glinting. "Keep up, Riven. You're about to see the part of Blackstone most people pretend isn't there."
They emerged into another street — except… Riven froze.
He knew this street. He'd bled here once before.
But that was impossible. They'd been running in the opposite direction.
Part 2 — The Street of Old Blood
The rain pooled in the uneven stones, carrying the smell of rust and something older, sourer.
Riven's boots slowed without his permission. He'd walked this street years ago — back when he thought he was just another nameless face in Blackstone. Back before he learned that names could be hunted.
A memory rose, unbidden.
A narrow doorway.
A locked room.
And the sound of someone choking on their last breath.
He forced it down, but the smell was still there. Blood doesn't wash away in a city like this.
"You've been here before," the girl said, her tone more observation than question.
His voice came out flat. "Once."
She tilted her head slightly, reading him like a book she'd already memorized. "Good. Then you know what waits at the end."
The sword tightened its grip in his hand. "She's taking you back to where you killed him."
The hunters' footsteps echoed somewhere behind them, fainter now but steady.
Riven's jaw tensed. "If this is a game, I'm not playing."
She smiled faintly. "It's not a game. It's a test. And if you fail it, they'll take your head… and I'll take your sword."
Part 3 — The Door That Should Be Locked
The alley narrowed until it became more wall than passage, the kind of place where shadows were thicker than the air itself.
There it was — the door.
Same warped wood, same iron latch.
No sign that anyone had touched it in years.
But Riven knew that was a lie.
He stepped closer, fingers brushing the cold metal. In his memory, the latch had been stiff, sealed by rust and chains. Tonight, it moved with a soft click — smooth, as if it had been oiled not long ago.
The sword murmured low. "Something waits beyond it. Not man. Not woman. But it remembers you."
The girl stood back, her expression unreadable, rain dripping from the edge of her hood. "Go on, Riven. After all, you survived it once."
He turned to her. "You knew where this was. You knew it would be open."
"That's the point."
The hunters' footsteps were louder now — too close. One turn and they'd be in the alley.
The door creaked open on its own.
The smell that rolled out was warm, metallic, and wrong.
The girl's eyes met his. "In or out. Decide."
Preview for Chapter 8
With no time to choose, Riven is forced inside the place that once nearly killed him. But the room beyond the door isn't the same one he remembers… and the thing waiting there remembers him far too well.
Call to Action
If this chapter hooked you, follow and drop a comment — what's behind that door? And why is she leading him there?