Morning came, but the light felt wrong.
It filtered through Riven's curtains like diluted silver — too cold, too bright. Every color seemed sharper, every sound too loud. Even the hum of the city outside felt alive, pulsing like a heartbeat he couldn't match.
He stood before the mirror, studying his reflection. His face was pale, shadows pooled beneath his eyes. The mark on his chest had faded to a faint shimmer, but when he leaned close, he swore it shifted — breathing with him.
Then the reflection blinked.
He hadn't.
Riven froze, breath catching. The reflection stared back, its lips curving upward in a faint, knowing smile. For one terrifying moment, its eyes weren't his — they were glowing faintly gold.
He stumbled backward, knocking over a glass that shattered on the floor. When he looked again, the reflection was normal.
He pressed his palms against the sink, whispering, "Get it together, Riven."
But somewhere deep inside, something laughed.
By the time he reached campus, the day had bled into a gray drizzle. Kai was waiting by the art building, waving a hand lazily.
"Hey, man! You look like you didn't sleep at all."
Riven managed a tired smile. "Didn't."
Kai grinned, bumping his shoulder. "Still pulling all-nighters with your creepy sketches?"
"Something like that."
They walked through the corridors together, students buzzing around them. It should've felt normal — it didn't. Every reflective surface Riven passed shimmered faintly, as if it remembered his face a little too long.
As they entered the studio, Kai adjusted his camera strap. "Hey, you ever notice how you've been kinda… different lately?"
Riven froze mid-step. "Different how?"
Kai shrugged. "I don't know, man. You space out a lot. Sometimes your eyes catch the light weird. Thought maybe it's the lighting, but…" He hesitated. "Yesterday, when we were walking back — I swear I saw your shadow move the wrong way."
Riven laughed nervously. "You need more sleep than I do."
"Yeah. Maybe."
Kai grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes.
By evening, the rain had thickened. Riven stayed late in the studio, sketching in silence while the others drifted out. He wasn't sure why he couldn't stop drawing — his hands moved on their own, lines forming wings, a throne, and eyes like liquid silver.
When the last of the light faded, he packed his things and stepped into the corridor.
The building was quiet — too quiet.
Halfway down the hall, he passed the row of display mirrors used for life-drawing practice. For a moment, he thought he saw someone standing just behind him. He turned — no one. But in the mirror, a shadow lingered.
Not his.
It was tall, lean, and wrong — stretching where it shouldn't, eyes burning faintly red.
Riven's throat tightened. He took a step back. The shadow didn't move. It smiled instead — wide, too wide — and whispered his name.
"Riven…"
He ran.
He didn't remember leaving the building, only the rain hitting his face and the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. He ducked into a narrow alley beside the art block, breath sharp, chest burning.
The mark beneath his shirt pulsed again, light bleeding through the fabric like veins of fire.
Something stepped out of the darkness behind him — human-shaped, but its eyes were hollow, skin as pale as wax. It moved like a puppet with broken strings.
"Elyon…" it rasped, voice layered with static. "The Eternal One…"
Riven backed away, his heel splashing into a puddle. "You've got the wrong person."
The creature tilted its head, face cracking like dry porcelain. "Found you."
It lunged.
A burst of blinding light exploded from Riven's chest. The air rippled — the creature shrieked, its body dissolving into black mist. Riven fell to his knees, panting, smoke rising faintly from the ground around him.
He looked down. The mark on his chest glowed like molten gold. His veins shimmered faintly beneath his skin — not human.
"What… am I?" he whispered.
"Something the world forgot."
Riven looked up sharply. Azael stood at the mouth of the alley, rain streaking down his coat. His silver eyes reflected both the light and the darkness within Riven.
"You said this would happen," Riven breathed.
"I told you it was beginning," Azael replied softly, stepping closer. "Now you've called them to you."
"'Them'?"
Azael's gaze hardened. "The Watchers. They hunt what they cannot control. And you…" He reached out, brushing a thumb against the faint glow under Riven's collarbone. "…you are beyond their control."
Riven flinched at the touch — not from pain, but from the strange warmth it carried. "You keep saying that like it's supposed to mean something."
"It will," Azael said quietly. "Soon."
Thunder cracked overhead, lightning briefly illuminating Azael's face — ancient sorrow flickering in his eyes.
Riven swallowed, his voice barely audible over the storm. "You knew this would happen, didn't you?"
"I hoped it wouldn't. But fate…" Azael smiled faintly. "Fate doesn't take orders."
Riven stared at him, shivering as the rain washed over them both. For a moment, he wanted to ask everything — who he was, what this mark meant, why his name wasn't his. But before he could speak, Azael turned toward the shadows.
"They'll come again," he said. "Next time, you won't be alone."
And just like that, he was gone — dissolving into mist as if the rain had swallowed him whole.
Riven sank against the wall, the city lights reflecting in the puddles like scattered stars. His reflection stared back at him again — faintly smiling, faintly different.
And somewhere deep in the glass, something whispered,
> "Welcome back, Eternal One."