(Riven POV)
---
I step outside.
The doors of the hall close behind me, but the sound doesn't startle me.
Very little does anymore.
I clasp my hands inside my robe.
The motion is familiar.
I don't know why.
I walk.
My steps aren't heavy.
But with each one, something inside me feels like it's being dragged.
As if an invisible weight… is brushing the ground.
I walk.
For a long time.
Eventually, I see a large rock.
Worn.
Weathered by time.
But still there.
So am I.
I sit on the rock.
Lean my back against it.
Lift my head.
The sun is setting.
Its light doesn't hurt my eyes.
Did it used to?
I don't know.
But in that moment—
something inside me stirs.
Not a memory.
A feeling.
Very small.
Very weak.
But… warm.
---
A little girl.
Older than me.
I know this.
I don't know how I know, but the knowledge is clear.
Sharp.
Impossible to be wrong.
I didn't stand behind her—
she stood in front of me.
The wind blows a little harder.
And suddenly—
> "Don't catch a cold."
This word.
This voice—
No.
Not a voice.
Just… its meaning.
My heart tightens suddenly.
My breath catches.
I bring a hand to my chest.
"Wh—" I whisper.
The Void doesn't speak right away.
That's new too.
---
I close my eyes.
No images come.
No face.
No sound.
But someone is kneeling in front of me.
Tying my shoelaces.
Hands…
Large hands.
Gentle.
> "If you fall, you get back up," she had said.
No.
She might not have said that.
But that sentence…
it isn't mine.
I wouldn't have said it.
She would have.
My sister.
The word echoes in my mind.
S-i-s-t-e-r.
My chest burns.
This isn't a memory.
It's a wound.
---
The Void finally whispers.
But this time—
slowly.
Carefully.
> "You don't need this."
I shake my head, but I'm not sure.
"She…"
I stop.
I don't want to continue.
If I do, something will break.
But the sentence slips out of my mouth anyway:
"I couldn't protect her."
Silence.
The Void doesn't answer.
The sun sinks a little more.
As the light fades, the feeling inside me fades too.
But not completely.
Something remains.
A mark.
A crack.
---
I stand up.
My hands are still inside my robe.
This time, they're trembling.
The Void speaks again.
Clearer.
Harsher.
> "That was the past."
> "And the past is a burden."
> "Burdens are discarded, Riven."
I open my eyes.
The sky has darkened.
Yes.
It's right.
I look forward.
I always have.
But inside me—
somewhere very deep—
a voice, so weak it's almost gone,
whispers this:
> You used to watch the sun with her.
My heart stops for a moment.
Then it beats again.
Harder.
Hollower.
---
I turn my back and walk away.
Toward the throne.
Toward duty.
Toward the path.
But now I know:
I don't remember.
But I lost her.
And the Void knows it.
That's why it stayed silent.
—
— Side Effects
(Riven POV)
---
I didn't return to the throne.
I changed my path.
That's strange too.
Normally, I'd return without thinking.
My feet would know; I'd follow.
Now…
my feet stopped.
I'm standing before a passageway.
Made of stone.
Its walls carved with old grooves.
I raise my hand.
Touch the stone.
Cold.
But this time—
I pull my hand back.
Why?
The Void doesn't speak.
That's even stranger.
---
Ahead, two guards are kneeling.
When they see me, they bow their heads.
> "Lord Riven."
Their voices tremble.
That used to please me.
Now…
One of them has a bleeding shoulder.
Not deep.
But it must hurt.
The man is clenching his teeth.
For some reason—
my gaze fixes on it.
Blood.
Red.
Not black.
I don't know where that thought came from.
---
I raise my hand.
A signal.
Normally, that would be enough.
The Void would tell me what to do.
But—
silence.
One of the guards speaks:
> "We await your command."
They're waiting.
So am I.
A brief emptiness.
Then something rises inside me.
Not clear.
But heavy.
> "Fall back," I say.
My voice sounds foreign to my own ears.
The guards are startled.
But they obey.
As they leave, the wounded man staggers, about to fall.
Reflexively—
Reflex.
That word angers me.
I grab his arm.
He regains his balance.
We lock eyes.
The man freezes.
So do I.
Why did I grab him?
The Void is still silent.
---
I pull my hand back.
As if it burned me.
"Go," I say more sharply.
They hurry away, almost fleeing.
I'm alone.
My heart is racing.
But not from victory.
---
> Void: "That was unnecessary."
The voice finally comes.
But…
too late.
"Was it?" I ask.
I'm surprised I asked.
The Void hesitates.
> "A sign of weakness."
I lower my head.
Look at the stone.
Where my hand touched it, there's a faint crack.
I didn't do that.
I must have.
But I don't remember.
---
I take a step.
Then stop.
An image.
Sudden.
Sharp.
A child falls.
Scraped knees bleeding.
I kneel—
No.
She kneels.
Taller than me.
Covers me with her shadow.
> "Don't cry."
This time, the word is clear.
My heart stutters.
"My hand…"
My voice is hoarse.
"Why did I—"
The Void cuts in.
Fast.
Sharp.
> "It's an echo."
> "A side effect of your power."
> "It's not important."
But there's something in its voice.
A tone.
For the first time—
haste.
---
I breathe.
Deep.
Slow.
"Her name…" I say.
I don't finish the sentence.
If I do—
The Void hardens.
> "You don't need that."
> "You couldn't save her."
That sentence…
That sentence is wrong.
I know it.
I don't know how I know, but—
it's wrong.
"I did everything I could," I say.
Silence.
This time, the Void doesn't answer.
---
I take another step.
In the shadow of the wall, I see something.
A scratch.
Old.
Like a knife mark.
But deliberate.
I approach.
There's a symbol carved into it.
Childish.
Two lines.
A circle.
A smile?
My throat tightens.
"This…" I say.
The Void whispers.
Soft.
Dangerous.
> "Let it go."
I don't pull my hand away.
For the first time.
---
There's an ache in my chest.
Not sharp.
But deep.
> "Back then…" I begin.
The sentence remains unfinished.
But that small voice inside me—
very weak—
very stubborn—
says this:
> She always waited for you here.
I close my eyes.
A drop of blood falls to the ground.
My blood.
I don't know how long I've been bleeding.
The Void is silent.
This isn't approval.
This is—
retreat.
---
I open my eyes.
I continue on my path.
The war hasn't begun.
But the first blow has been struck.
And this time—
I noticed.
---
— Side Effects
—
— What I Saw
(Cory POV)
---
I saw him from a distance.
He wasn't on the throne.
That was the first mistake.
Riven was always on the throne.
Even if he had to leave…
he would sit first, then rise.
Now—
he was standing beside a rock.
The sun was setting.
And he…
was looking.
Just looking.
That was worse.
---
I didn't hide.
There was no need.
He was no longer someone people needed to hide from.
I let my footsteps be heard.
They echoed on the stone floor.
Riven didn't turn.
That was the second mistake.
Before—
he would sense someone approaching before turning.
---
"Riven," I said.
My voice trembled.
I tried not to notice.
He slowly turned his head.
Our eyes met.
And something inside me…
emptied.
That look—
wasn't anger.
Wasn't hatred.
Wasn't even coldness.
There was nothing in it.
As if a door stood open,
but no one lived inside.
---
"The throne is waiting," I said.
An old sentence.
I'd said it many times.
Before, he would lower his head.
Or smile.
Now—
"I know," he said.
But his voice…
wasn't where it belonged.
---
I stepped closer.
One step.
Then another.
The sun split his face in two.
One side darkness.
The other—
empty.
"What were you doing here?" I asked.
I knew I didn't want the answer.
I asked anyway.
"I was trying to remember," he said.
My heart tightened.
"What—"
I hesitated.
I didn't want to continue.
But it was too late.
"—what?"
Riven was silent for a while.
Then—
"Someone," he said.
The word…
was very light.
But it had weight.
---
"I knew her," he continued.
"I'm sure of it."
He slipped his hand inside his robe.
His fingers were clenched.
They were trembling.
I don't think he noticed.
"Who?" I asked.
He didn't answer.
But his lips moved.
Silently.
A name.
I didn't hear it.
But I saw it.
And in that moment—
my knees weakened.
---
"Riven," I said more firmly.
"Look at me."
He looked.
But it wasn't a reflex.
He did it like following an order.
"You had a sister," I said.
Silence.
The air grew heavy.
I knew I shouldn't say that name.
But if I didn't—
no one ever would.
"She was older than me," Riven said suddenly.
That sentence…
didn't come from me.
I didn't say it.
But he knew.
And that—
was impossible.
---
"Yes," I said.
My throat burned.
"And she always stood in front of you."
This time—
his hand trembled.
He pulled it back.
As if he'd touched something.
"I don't… remember this," he said.
But his voice—
wasn't the voice of someone lying.
That was worse.
It was the voice of someone who couldn't catch up to himself.
---
"Riven," I said.
"Her name—"
Something happened.
Something tangible.
As if the air bent.
Riven's face hardened suddenly.
His eyes darkened.
And in that moment—
it wasn't him speaking.
> "That isn't necessary."
That voice…
had two layers.
One was Riven.
The other—
was not.
---
I took a step back.
By instinct.
"Riven?" I said.
He blinked.
As if waking up.
"What were you saying?" he asked.
And in that moment, I understood.
Truly understood.
He hadn't heard it.
---
The sun had fully set.
The sky was dark.
Riven turned his back.
"I should return to the throne," he said.
An old sentence.
But empty.
He started walking.
I didn't stop him.
I couldn't.
---
I stayed there.
Beside the rock.
And I noticed—
there was a small carving on the stone.
Childish.
Two lines.
A circle.
A smile.
I collapsed to my knees.
Because I recognized that mark.
---
> His sister had carved it there.
For Riven.
While watching the sun.
---
And in that moment, I understood this:
Gods could die.
Kingdoms could fall.
But if Riven didn't remember this—
> We had already lost.
---