Riven walked along the stone road of the village, every step echoing in the silence.
With each step, he searched for traces of Lex — but there was nothing left behind except emptiness.
Darel stood at a distance; the unease on his face was hard to miss.
Riven stopped and turned toward him.
"Darel, where is Lex?" he asked, his voice cold.
Darel shook his head. "I don't know, my lord."
Riven's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"You don't know, huh?" he murmured, tone sharp yet mockingly calm. "Are you lying to me? Where is Lex?"
Darel took a step back, voice trembling.
"He… he fled north, my lord. He was fast — gone before I could follow."
A faint smirk crept onto Riven's face — not of triumph, but challenge.
"North…" he muttered, almost like an exhale.
Then he stepped closer, his gaze locked on Darel's.
"Tell me, Darel — will you betray me?"
Darel replied at once. "Of course not, my lord."
Riven's voice dropped, low and cold. "You know Elian, don't you? You love that girl, don't you?"
Darel clenched his fists, his voice tightening. "Yes, my lord."
Riven paused, his tone sharpening.
"If you ever betray me… I'll kill her."
Darel lowered his head. "Understood, my lord," he said, voice subdued and obedient.
Just then, a wooden cart passed by — filled with people, children, chains.
Riven's eyes scanned the crowd and stopped on the face of a girl inside.
"Darel," he said quietly. "What are these?"
"Slaves, my lord," Darel replied. "Villagers… being sold off."
Riven's steps quickened as he approached the cart.
The air grew heavier — the scent of iron, sweat, and despair thickened around him.
A merchant stepped forward eagerly, his grin wide.
"Welcome, my lord! Looking for a servant? A fine slave, perhaps?"
Riven said nothing at first. His eyes swept the line of faces until they met hers — a girl whose eyes didn't hold fear, but something far more hollow, as if she had already accepted death.
He bent slightly, voice cutting through the murmurs.
"Hey, girl. What's your name?"
The girl lifted her head slowly. Her eyes were cold, her voice faint.
"My name is Nox."
Riven smirked, his tone mocking.
"Hey, brat… are you looking for death? I can see it in your eyes."
Nox flinched and stammered, voice trembling.
"No, my lord, please… take me, please. I'm scared — I hurt — I'll do whatever you want!"
Riven stepped closer, his hand brushing the iron bars.
With one motion, he snapped the metal apart.
The girl froze, wide-eyed. Riven reached out, touching her head gently — not with kindness, but possession.
"Come, Nox," he said. "You'll serve me now."
The merchant, sensing profit, quickly interjected.
"Ten gold coins, my lord — a fair price for her."
Riven looked at Darel. "Pay him," he ordered calmly.
Darel pulled out the coins and handed them over.
The merchant grinned. "A pleasure doing business, my lord. Come again anytime."
Riven glanced at Nox once more.
There was still a spark — the faintest ember of resistance — in her eyes.
Riven's lips curled faintly.
"Don't resist too much," he murmured. "Pawns that struggle only make the game messier."
Darel guided Nox away from the cart.
As she stepped down, the girl looked at Riven one last time — her eyes seemed to ask a silent question:
"Will you save me… or am I just another pawn to you?"
Riven didn't answer. He simply turned and walked forward.
His shadow stretched long and cold behind him —
and within that silence, a new move was already being prepared.
No one knew how this game would end.
—
Riven turned to Nox. "Hey, kid," he said, his tone calm but heavy with curiosity. "What's your story? How did you end up like this?"
Nox lowered her head, her voice trembling. "My lord… as you can see, I'm an elf. I once had green hair and golden eyes. But they said I brought misfortune because of my eyes… My own family abandoned me. Then… I was captured. The rest of my story is just pain," she whispered, her voice fading.
Riven stared at her for a while, silent. Then he said, "We're heading to the elven village soon. Would you like to come with us? Don't be afraid—while I'm here, no one will lay a hand on you."
Nox froze. Memories she had long buried began to resurface — the laughter of her people, the shouting, the fire. Her eyes filled with tears before she could stop them.
Riven watched quietly, his expression unreadable. "Tears…" he muttered. "Even elves still have them."
—
Riven watched the tears spill down Nox's cheeks for a moment longer, then stepped closer, tilting his head as if puzzled by something small and fragile.
"Why are you crying?" he asked, his voice soft but carrying that same unreadable edge.
Nox swallowed, fingers twisting in the hem of her sleeve. "I… I don't know," she whispered. "I'm scared of them. Please—don't leave me."
A flash of something like irritation crossed Riven's face, quickly smoothed into a mask of assurance. "Of course I won't leave you," he said, almost sharply. "I paid ten gold for you. I'm not the sort of man who abandons what he's bought." He reached out, and with a motion that felt at once rough and strangely tender, he ran his hand through her hair, flattening it against her scalp. "Don't make me kill your family asking me to. You won't want that."
Nox flinched at the words, then shook her head so violently a few tears sprang free. "No—no, my lord. Please. They don't deserve that. I—I don't want that."
Riven regarded her for a heartbeat, then nodded once, decisively. "Good." He stepped back, folding his hands behind his cloak. "We leave tomorrow. Get some rest. You'll need strength for the road."
As they turned away, Nox watched him go with a trembling hope she dared not name. Behind Riven, the village breathed and moved as always—unaware that a new, cold current had threaded itself into their lives, carrying with it choices that would not easily be undone.