Riven woke to the sound of his own arm.
It pulsed under the skin, black veins crawling higher past his elbow. Each throb came with a whisper at the edge of his ear, like laughter muffled in dirt. He clenched his fist until his nails dug blood.
The campfire had burned low. Walkers still sat around it, but their eyes kept darting to him. Not to his grin, not to his tokens. To the shadow crawling up his arm.
One man muttered, "Burden spreads."
Riven grinned wide, too sharp. "Relax. If it spreads, you'll just look prettier."
The man flinched, spat, and turned away.
Inside, Riven's chest was tight. He'd always been the one who could talk over fear, laugh through cracks. Now his shadow laughed back.
He stood, stretching. The arm twitched, pulling at his shoulder. "Easy," he hissed. "You're mine." The shadow pulsed harder, like it disagreed.
The system whispered, flat and cruel:
[Burden Update: Shadow Arm] Effect: Strength increased. Cost: Autonomy unstable. Note: Arm may act without consent.
Riven's grin faltered. Without consent.
A scream cut across the camp. A Walker stumbled back from the fire, clutching his leg. Black veins crawled up it fast — not from the Pit, but from Riven's shadow, stretched out across the dirt like a hand.
Riven yanked his arm back. The shadow recoiled, slamming into his chest. The man writhed, veins receding, breath ragged. He glared at Riven with hate and terror both.
Whispers rose. "He can't control it." "He'll curse us all."
Riven's mouth went dry. He wanted to laugh it off, call it a joke. But the words stuck. His arm twitched again, fingers moving without him.
He forced them still, gritted his teeth until his jaw ached. "It's mine," he said, voice cracking. "I own it."
No one answered. The campfire popped.
The gong rolled faint, heavy through the walls.
BOOOONG.
Every head turned toward him. Not the pit. Not the Ledger. Him.
Riven's grin came back, jagged and thin. "Yeah," he muttered to the fire. "Guess the Ledger thinks I'm funny too."