The Hollow City lay in ruins behind them, its jagged spires now eerily silent. What had once been a cacophony of despair and violence was now reduced to an empty stillness that pressed on Riven’s chest like a weight. He didn’t look back. There was no comfort in victory when it came at the expense of so much.
Lyra hovered beside him, her glow faint but steady, though she was unusually quiet. They moved in silence through the outskirts of the city, the shattered remnants of its streets crumbling beneath their steps. The shard in Riven’s hand pulsed faintly, its light warm against his palm. It was the only thing that felt alive in the cold expanse of the Veins of Eternity.
The silence stretched until Lyra finally spoke. “How do you feel?”
The question caught Riven off guard, but he didn’t answer immediately. His thoughts were tangled, his body aching from the strain of the last battle. His arm throbbed where the Void Corruption lingered, the veins beneath his skin dark and pulsing faintly.
“Like I’m falling apart,” he said finally, his voice low. “But that’s nothing new.”
Lyra’s gaze lingered on him, her expression unreadable. “You’re stronger than you think, Riven. What you did back there—”
“Don’t,” Riven cut her off, his tone sharper than he intended. He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair. “Don’t try to make this something it’s not. I didn’t save anyone. I just put out another fire in a forest that’s already burned to ash.”
Lyra hesitated, her glow dimming. “You freed the souls trapped in the Hollow City. That matters.”
Riven clenched his jaw, his grip tightening on the shard. “And what about the ones I didn’t save? What about the ones the Veil already took? You saw those mirrors, Lyra. You know how many lives were shattered in that place.”
Her voice softened. “You can’t carry every soul, Riven. It’ll destroy you.”
“Maybe I deserve that,” he muttered, his tone bitter.
Lyra’s glow flared briefly, her expression hardening. “You don’t. Don’t let the Void make you think otherwise.”
They continued walking, the terrain shifting around them as they left the city behind. The ground became rougher, jagged stones jutting out of the earth like broken teeth. A cold wind swept through the landscape, carrying with it faint whispers that sent shivers down Riven’s spine.
The whispers grew louder as they climbed a ridge, each step heavier than the last. Riven paused at the crest, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Below them stretched a vast expanse of shimmering silver sand, its surface broken by black obelisks that jutted skyward like gravestones. The air here was different—charged with a strange, oppressive energy that made Riven’s skin crawl.
“What is this place?” he asked, his voice low.
Lyra floated beside him, her glow dimming as she surveyed the scene. “The Sands of Eternal Dissonance,” she said quietly. “A graveyard for memories. Every obelisk is a marker for a life lost to the Veil. The sands... they’re what’s left of the souls it devoured.”
Riven stared at the obelisks, a hollow feeling settling in his chest. The weight of the place pressed against him, each marker a silent reminder of what he was fighting against—and what he couldn’t undo.
“They’re watching us,” Lyra said suddenly, her voice tense. “The Veil might be gone from the Hollow City, but its echoes remain. We’re not safe here.”
Riven’s hand went to his sword, his eyes scanning the sands below. The obelisks cast long shadows across the silver surface, and within those shadows, faint shapes began to stir—flickering forms that twisted and writhed like smoke caught in the wind.
The figures emerged slowly, their forms indistinct but undeniably humanoid. They moved with an unnatural grace, their bodies shifting and dissolving like fragments of a broken reflection. Their eyes glowed faintly, twin points of light that burned with cold, familiar malice.
Riven’s grip on his sword tightened. “What are they?”
“Echoes,” Lyra said, her voice tight. “Fragments of the souls trapped here. They’re not fully formed, but they’ll still attack if we get too close.”
“And I’m guessing we don’t have another route,” Riven muttered.
Lyra shook her head. “The Veins of Eternity only offer one path, Riven. You know that.”
He exhaled sharply, his gaze fixed on the figures below. The whispers in the wind grew louder, each one brushing against his mind like cold fingers. The Void Corruption in his veins pulsed faintly, responding to the presence of the echoes.
“You feel that, don’t you?” Lyra said, her tone uneasy. “The echoes are drawn to the corruption. It’s like a beacon to them.”
“Great,” Riven muttered. “Just what I needed.”
The closest echoes began to move, their forms flickering as they drifted toward the ridge. Riven stepped forward, his sword at the ready. “Stay close,” he said to Lyra. “We get through fast and keep moving. No distractions.”
Lyra’s glow flared briefly, her determination evident despite her exhaustion. “You’re not doing this alone, Riven.”
He smirked faintly, though there was no humor in it. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
The echoes surged forward, their movements jerky and chaotic as they closed the distance. Riven charged to meet them, his blade flashing as he struck the first figure. The echo dissolved into shards of light and shadow, but the others were undeterred, their twisted forms pressing in from all sides.
The battle began in earnest, the Sands of Eternal Dissonance alive with the clash of steel and the haunting whispers of the fallen.
The echoes surged like a tide of fragmented souls, their distorted forms writhing as they lunged toward Riven. Each one moved with unnerving unpredictability, their limbs stretching unnaturally before snapping back like broken glass trying to reform. The whispers in the wind rose to a deafening pitch, each voice clawing at the edges of Riven’s mind.
You failed us.
Why didn’t you save me?
You’re just like them—empty.
Riven swung his sword in a wide arc, the blade slicing through the nearest echo. Its body shattered into a flurry of light and shadow, the fragments dissolving into the silver sand. But for each he struck down, three more seemed to rise, their glowing eyes burning with cold malice.
“They just keep coming!” Riven shouted over the din, his voice taut with frustration.
“They’re not endless,” Lyra replied, darting around him as her spectral energy flared. She unleashed a burst of light that scattered a cluster of echoes, their forms unraveling into the air. “They’re fragments, Riven! They can’t reform forever. If we push hard enough, they’ll break for good.”
Riven gritted his teeth, his muscles straining as he parried another strike. The echoes’ attacks were chaotic but relentless, their jagged limbs cutting through the air with unnatural speed. He countered with a quick thrust, driving his blade into the chest of an approaching figure. The echo let out a hollow wail before collapsing into nothingness.
The Void Corruption in his veins pulsed violently, feeding off the chaos around him. Its whispers grew louder, more insistent, intertwining with the voices of the echoes.
Let us in. Use us. You’ll be unstoppable.
Riven’s grip tightened on his sword, his jaw clenching as he shoved the voice down. “Not a chance,” he muttered through gritted teeth.
The battle raged on, and the sands beneath Riven’s boots churned into a chaotic swirl of silver and black. The obelisks around them seemed to pulse faintly, their surfaces reflecting fractured glimpses of the fight. In one, Riven saw himself—wounded, weary, and barely holding on. In another, he saw Lyra, her spectral form flickering dangerously as she unleashed another burst of energy.
“Lyra!” Riven called, his voice strained. “Don’t overdo it!”
“I’m fine,” she snapped, though her glow was visibly dimmer. “Focus on staying alive, Riven!”
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A sudden impact sent Riven sprawling, his sword slipping from his grasp as he hit the ground hard. He gasped as the wind was knocked from his lungs, the sharp edges of the silver sand cutting into his palms. Above him, an echo loomed, its jagged limbs raised for a killing blow.
You’re too weak.
You’ll never save anyone.
Riven’s chest tightened as the voices pressed in, his breath coming in ragged gasps. The corruption in his veins surged, dark tendrils of energy coiling around his arm as the whispers grew deafening.
“Riven!” Lyra’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and clear. Her spectral form darted between him and the echo, her energy flaring as she drove the creature back. “Get up! Don’t let it take you!”
Her words jolted him back to reality. With a growl of effort, Riven reached for his sword, his fingers closing around the hilt as he rolled to his feet. The echo lunged again, but this time he was ready. His blade struck true, cleaving through the creature’s fragmented body.
“Thanks,” he muttered, glancing at Lyra.
“Don’t thank me yet,” she replied, her tone tight. “We’re not out of this.”
The echoes were thinning, their attacks losing some of their earlier intensity. Riven could feel it—the connection that bound them to this place was weakening, unraveling like threads pulled from a fraying tapestry. But the cost was mounting. His movements were slower, his strikes less precise, and every breath felt heavier than the last.
“Lyra,” he said between gasps, “we need to end this. Now.”
She nodded, her glow flickering as she unleashed another blast of energy. “I’m working on it!” she called. Her voice carried an edge of frustration, but there was something else beneath it—fear.
The echoes pressed forward again, their glowing eyes fixed on Riven as though he were the source of their hatred. He met them head-on, his blade flashing as he cut through their ranks. Each strike carried the weight of his exhaustion, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t stop.
As he fought, the whispers began to shift. They were no longer just voices of despair—they were memories. Fragments of lives lost to the Veil. A woman’s voice, soft and broken: I just wanted to see my child again.
A man’s desperate plea: Please, don’t let it take me.
A child’s cry: I’m scared.
Riven’s grip faltered, the weight of the voices threatening to overwhelm him. His vision blurred, the world around him twisting into a sea of fractured images. He saw faces—dozens, hundreds—all staring at him with hollow eyes.
“Riven!” Lyra’s voice snapped him back to the present. “Don’t let it pull you in!”
He shook his head, forcing the voices aside as he refocused on the fight. His blade clashed against an echo’s jagged limb, sparks flying as he drove it back. “We’re almost there,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Keep pushing!”
The echoes began to falter, their forms flickering and dissolving as the connection binding them to the obelisks weakened. Lyra unleashed a final burst of energy, the light spreading across the sands and shattering the last of the figures. The silence that followed was deafening, the whispers fading into nothingness.
Riven stood amidst the wreckage, his chest heaving as he surveyed the battlefield. The obelisks around them were still, their faint glow dimmed to a dull shimmer. The silver sand beneath his boots was littered with the remnants of the echoes, their fragmented forms reduced to harmless dust.
“It’s over,” Lyra said softly, her voice filled with relief.
“For now,” Riven replied, his tone grim. He sheathed his sword, his hand trembling from the strain. “But the Veil doesn’t give up that easily.”
Lyra floated closer, her glow steadying as she studied him. “You’re hurt.”
“I’ll live,” he said, though his voice lacked conviction. The Void Corruption in his veins pulsed faintly, its presence a constant reminder of the battle he was fighting within himself. “Let’s move. This place is done.”
Together, they turned away from the battlefield, the silver sands stretching out before them. The path ahead was uncertain, but Riven knew one thing: the fight was far from over.
The silence of the Sands of Eternal Dissonance was oppressive, broken only by the faint crunch of silver sand beneath Riven’s boots. Each step felt heavier than the last, exhaustion pulling at his limbs. The echoes were gone, but their presence lingered in his mind—the haunting whispers, the faces etched with despair.
Lyra floated beside him, her glow faint but steady. She watched him carefully, her expression unreadable, but Riven could feel her concern like a weight pressing against him.
“You need to rest,” she said finally, her voice soft but firm.
“I’ll rest when we’re somewhere safe,” Riven replied, his tone sharper than he intended. He kept his gaze fixed on the horizon, where the shimmering sands stretched endlessly toward the jagged peaks in the distance. The shard in his hand pulsed faintly, its warmth a small comfort against the chill in the air.
“Safe doesn’t exist here,” Lyra said, her tone tinged with frustration. “You know that. The Veins of Eternity won’t give us peace—not until this is over.”
Riven slowed, his shoulders slumping as the weight of her words sank in. She was right, of course. The realms connected to the Shattered Archive were in constant flux, their instability feeding the Void and leaving no place untouched by its corruption. Even the shard in his hand, a fragment of the Veil’s defeated core, pulsed with lingering traces of darkness.
“I know,” he said quietly, his voice losing its edge. “But stopping now won’t make this any easier.”
They reached a small outcropping of stone jutting out from the sands, offering a brief reprieve from the desolate expanse. Riven sank to the ground, his back against the cool rock, and let out a long, ragged breath. He stared at the shard in his hand, its faint light flickering against the growing darkness.
Lyra hovered in front of him, her spectral form casting soft illumination over the jagged terrain. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” she said, her tone gentler now. “You’re pushing too hard.”
Riven didn’t answer immediately. He ran a thumb over the shard’s surface, the warmth of its light a small anchor in the chaos of his thoughts. “Every time I stop,” he said finally, his voice low, “I hear them. The voices. The faces. Everyone I’ve failed. It doesn’t go away, Lyra. It just gets louder.”
Her expression softened, her glow dimming. “You’re not responsible for every soul the Void takes.”
“Aren’t I?” Riven looked up at her, his eyes filled with a mix of anger and despair. “The Archive chose me. It gave me this power, this... responsibility. If I can’t stop the Void, then what’s the point? What good is any of this?”
Lyra drifted closer, her presence comforting but firm. “You’re not a god, Riven. You can’t save everyone. But you’ve saved some. The people of the Hollow City, the souls trapped in those echoes—you gave them peace. That matters.”
Riven let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Peace. Sure. Until the next realm falls. Until the Void finds another way to spread.”
“And what’s the alternative?” Lyra asked, her voice sharper now. “Giving up? Letting the Void win? Is that what you want?”
He met her gaze, his expression hard. “Of course not.”
“Then stop pretending you’re alone in this,” she said, her glow flaring briefly. “I’m here. The Archive is here. You’re not fighting the Void by yourself, no matter how much it feels like it.”
Riven looked away, his grip tightening on the shard. He didn’t respond, but her words settled in his chest like a weight—one that didn’t feel entirely unwelcome.
The stillness of the Sands of Eternal Dissonance didn’t last. As Riven and Lyra prepared to move again, the air shifted, growing colder. A faint vibration pulsed through the ground, subtle at first but growing stronger with each passing moment.
“Do you feel that?” Lyra asked, her voice tense.
Riven nodded, rising to his feet and drawing his sword. The shard in his hand pulsed faintly, as though warning him of an approaching danger. He scanned the horizon, his eyes narrowing as the source of the disturbance came into view.
In the distance, a figure emerged from the shimmering sands, its form shrouded in a swirling cloak of shadows. Unlike the echoes, this presence was solid, its movements deliberate and precise. The air around it seemed to ripple with power, the faint hum of the Veil’s energy growing louder as it approached.
“Another protector?” Riven muttered, his grip tightening on his sword.
Lyra shook her head, her glow dimming. “No. This is different. Stronger.”
The figure stopped several paces away, its hooded head tilting slightly as it regarded them. When it spoke, its voice was deep and resonant, carrying an almost musical quality. “Custodian,” it said, the word dripping with disdain. “You have caused quite the disturbance.”
Riven stepped forward, his sword at the ready. “Who are you?”
The figure chuckled softly, the sound low and unsettling. “A servant of the Veil, though I am far more than the echoes you so easily dispatched. You may call me Korrith.”
“Korrith,” Lyra said, her tone laced with unease. “You’re... one of the anchors, aren’t you?”
The figure inclined its head. “Very good, little specter. Yes, I am one of the Veil’s chosen—a being bound to its will and charged with preserving its influence.”
Riven raised his sword, his expression hard. “Well, you’re not doing a great job of it. The Veil is crumbling, piece by piece.”
Korrith’s laughter echoed across the sands. “You misunderstand, Custodian. The Veil does not crumble. It adapts. It evolves. And your efforts, however noble, are nothing more than a fleeting resistance. The Archive chose poorly when it selected you.”
“Then come and prove it,” Riven said, his voice cold.
Korrith extended a hand, the shadows around him coalescing into a jagged blade that pulsed with dark energy. “Very well. Let us see if you are worthy of the title you so desperately cling to.”
Korrith moved with terrifying speed, his shadowed blade cutting through the air with unnatural precision. Riven barely had time to raise his sword, the impact sending a jolt through his arms. Sparks flew as their weapons clashed, the sound ringing out across the desolate expanse.
Lyra darted to Riven’s side, her energy flaring as she unleashed a burst of light at Korrith. The attack struck true, but the shadows surrounding him absorbed the blow, dissipating the energy harmlessly.
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Korrith said, his tone mocking.
Riven gritted his teeth, pushing back against the force of Korrith’s blade. The Void Corruption in his veins pulsed violently, its whispers growing louder as the battle raged. He could feel the strain in his body, the weight of the corruption dragging him down.
Use us, the voice hissed. Let us guide you.
“Not now,” Riven muttered, his voice a growl.
Korrith stepped back, his shadowed form shifting as he prepared for another strike. “You cannot defeat me, Custodian. The Veil’s power is eternal. And you... you are already broken.”
Riven didn’t answer. He raised his sword, his gaze steady despite the exhaustion in his body. The battle wasn’t over—not yet.