The realm stretched out before them, a wasteland of cracked stone and dying embers. The air smelled of iron and decay, carrying with it a faint, acrid sting. Riven adjusted the strap of his pack, the weight of the shard pressing heavily against his back. Each step echoed against the silent expanse, a sound that felt too loud for a place so devoid of life.
Lyra hovered close, her spectral glow subdued. She scanned the horizon, her expression tense. “There’s movement up ahead,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “Survivors, maybe. But... something feels wrong.”
Riven slowed his pace, his hand instinctively resting on the hilt of his sword. “We’re not alone,” he said quietly. His eyes narrowed as he spotted faint silhouettes in the distance, their forms flickering against the dim light of the horizon.
As they drew closer, the shapes became clearer—a group of people huddled near the remains of a collapsed structure. Their faces were gaunt, their clothes torn and filthy. They were armed, but barely; crude spears and rusted blades were held in hands that trembled from malnutrition or fear.
One of them stepped forward, a wiry man with hollow cheeks and sharp eyes. His voice was hoarse, but there was an edge of defiance in it. “Stay where you are,” he said, raising a hand. “We don’t want trouble.”
Riven stopped a few paces away, his stance calm but ready. “Neither do we,” he said, his tone steady. “We’re just passing through.”
The man’s eyes flicked to the hilt of Riven’s sword, then to Lyra’s faintly glowing form. “You’re not like the others,” he said slowly. “But you’ve got the mark.” He pointed to Riven’s arm, where faint black veins traced beneath his skin—a visible sign of the Void Corruption.
Riven’s jaw tightened. “It’s not what you think,” he said. “I’m not with the Veil.”
Another figure stepped forward, a younger woman with a scar running down the side of her face. Her grip on a makeshift spear tightened as she spoke. “Then what are you? Some kind of half-corrupted freak? You expect us to believe you’re here to help?”
“He’s telling the truth,” Lyra interjected, her glow flaring slightly. “The corruption isn’t his choice. He’s fighting it—fighting the Veil.”
The woman laughed bitterly. “Fighting the Veil? Good luck with that. The Veil doesn’t lose, and anyone who touches its corruption ends up the same.” She pointed her spear at Riven, her eyes hard. “One of them.”
Riven stepped forward, his tone cold but controlled. “I’m not here to convince you of anything. I’ve fought the Veil, and I’ve bled for it. You can believe me or not, but if you’re trying to survive in this place, you’ll need more than those spears to hold back what’s coming.”
The man hesitated, his sharp eyes studying Riven carefully. “What’s coming?”
Riven glanced at the horizon, where faint, shifting shadows danced at the edge of his vision. “Shades. And worse. The Veil doesn’t let survivors stay survivors for long.”
The man looked back at his group, uncertainty flickering across his face. But before he could respond, a low, rumbling laugh echoed across the wasteland. It was deep and resonant, carrying a mocking edge that sent a chill down Riven’s spine.
“Well said, Custodian,” a voice called out. “But do you think you’re any different from the rest of us?”
Riven turned, his grip tightening on his sword. From the shadows emerged a figure clad in dark armor, its surface etched with twisting, vein-like patterns of glowing crimson. A hood obscured most of their face, but the faint glint of a smirk was visible beneath it. The voice was calm, smooth, and dripping with contempt.
“You fight the Veil, but you carry its mark. You think you’re its enemy, but the truth, Riven, is far more entertaining.”
Lyra’s glow flared with alarm. “That’s a Custodian,” she said urgently. “One of us. Or... one of what we used to be.”
Riven raised his sword, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. “Who are you?”
The figure stepped closer, the crimson glow of their armor illuminating their sharp, angular features. Their voice was almost amused as they replied. “Call me Kael. I was like you once. Blind, idealistic, clinging to the scraps the Archive tossed me. But the Veil... it showed me the truth.”
Kael spread their arms, their movement fluid and deliberate. “The Void isn’t our enemy, Riven. It’s our salvation. The Archive doesn’t want balance—it wants control. It uses us like pawns, feeding us lies about saving the realms while it hoards power for itself.”
Riven’s jaw tightened, his voice low. “Save your sermons. You’re corrupted.”
Kael’s smirk widened. “Corrupted? No, Custodian. Enlightened. But if you’re too blind to see it, I suppose I’ll have to show you.”
Kael’s hand moved to the hilt of their weapon—a sleek, curved blade that pulsed with faint red light. The wasteland seemed to grow colder as they drew it, the air heavy with the hum of dark energy.
“Let’s see if your resolve is as strong as you think it is.”
Kael moved first. Their curved blade sliced through the air, the faint hum of the Veil’s energy trailing behind it like an eerie echo. Riven barely had time to raise his sword to block, the impact sending a sharp vibration up his arms. Sparks flew where their weapons met, casting fleeting light across Kael’s smirking face.
“You’ve grown soft, Riven,” Kael said mockingly, pushing forward with calculated strength. “The Archive has always chosen poorly, but I didn’t think they’d stoop this low.”
Riven gritted his teeth, shoving Kael back with a burst of strength. “Funny,” he retorted, leveling his sword. “I was just thinking the same about the Veil.”
Kael laughed, the sound cold and humorless. “Is that what you tell yourself? That you’re still different? Look at your arm, Custodian. The Void’s already inside you. No matter how hard you fight, it’ll win. Just like it won with me.”
Kael struck again, their movements precise and relentless. Their blade glowed faintly with crimson energy, each swing leaving an afterimage in the dim air. Riven met the attacks head-on, his sword flashing in the flickering light as he parried and countered.
The clash of their weapons echoed across the wasteland, drawing the wary eyes of the survivors. They huddled together, their fear palpable as they watched the battle unfold. Lyra floated near Riven, her glow pulsing faintly as she monitored his movements.
“Kael’s fighting style is too controlled,” she said urgently. “They’re reading your moves. You need to disrupt their rhythm!”
Riven dodged a sweeping strike, rolling to the side before lunging forward with a powerful thrust. Kael sidestepped with almost effortless grace, twisting their blade to deflect the attack and countering with a rapid slash. The tip of their weapon grazed Riven’s shoulder, leaving a shallow cut that burned with Void energy.
Riven hissed in pain, his grip tightening on his sword. “Thanks for the advice,” he muttered to Lyra, his voice edged with frustration.
The battle raged on, each strike faster and more ferocious than the last. Riven’s muscles burned with exertion, his movements slowing slightly as Kael’s attacks grew more aggressive. The ground beneath their feet began to shift, faint cracks forming in the earth as the Veil’s energy pulsed through the air.
Kael noticed the change and smirked. “The shard you carry,” they said, their voice calm despite the chaos. “It’s calling to me. Do you feel it, Riven? The weight of it? The shard knows what it is. It knows it belongs to the Veil, not you.”
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Riven didn’t answer. He surged forward with renewed determination, his sword cutting through the air in a powerful arc. Kael raised their blade to block, but the force of the strike sent them stumbling back, their smirk faltering for the first time.
“I don’t care what it thinks,” Riven said, his voice cold. “It’s not getting it back.”
Kael steadied themselves, their smirk returning as they raised a hand. The crimson veins running through their armor flared brightly, pulsing with raw energy. The ground beneath them cracked and trembled, faint tendrils of shadow curling upward like smoke.
“You don’t understand, Riven,” Kael said, their voice reverberating unnaturally. “The shards aren’t weapons—they’re pieces of the Veil’s soul. And when you carry them, you carry it inside you.”
Before Riven could respond, Kael unleashed a surge of energy, the crimson light exploding outward in a shockwave that tore through the ground. Riven raised his sword, bracing himself as the force hit him like a battering ram, knocking him backward.
Lyra darted to his side, her spectral glow flickering as she shielded him from the worst of the blast. “Riven, you can’t let them keep controlling the fight! That power—it’s tied to the shard. If Kael gets it, they’ll only grow stronger!”
Riven pushed himself to his feet, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His arm throbbed, the Void Corruption flaring in response to Kael’s energy. The voices he’d fought to suppress grew louder, their whispers insistent.
Use us. Stop holding back. You’re not strong enough without us.
“Shut up,” Riven muttered through clenched teeth, shaking his head as he tried to focus. He locked eyes with Kael, their crimson-lit form a stark contrast to the desolate landscape.
“You want the shard?” he said, his voice low and steady. “Come and take it.”
Kael surged forward, their blade glowing with deadly intent. Riven met the attack head-on, his sword crashing against theirs in a burst of sparks. The impact sent a jolt through his arms, but he held his ground, pushing back with everything he had.
The fight devolved into a brutal, close-quarters clash, their movements a blur of steel and shadow. Kael’s strikes were precise and unrelenting, each one driving Riven closer to the edge of exhaustion. But Riven refused to fall, his determination burning brighter with every blow.
Finally, Kael feinted a strike to the left before spinning and driving their blade toward Riven’s side. Riven twisted just in time, the blade grazing his ribs instead of piercing through. He gritted his teeth, ignoring the searing pain as he countered with a powerful upward slash.
The attack caught Kael off guard, their armor splintering as Riven’s sword tore through it. They staggered back, crimson energy leaking from the wound like blood.
“You’re stronger than I expected,” Kael admitted, their tone laced with both admiration and annoyance. “But strength alone won’t save you.”
Riven steadied himself, his sword raised despite the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him. “Maybe not,” he said, his voice firm. “But it’s enough to stop you.”
Kael’s smirk returned, but this time it was tinged with something darker. They stepped back, lowering their blade slightly. “We’ll see about that,” they said, their voice almost playful. “The shard will show you the truth soon enough.”
Before Riven could react, Kael raised a hand and unleashed another burst of energy—not at him, but at the survivors. The shockwave sent them scattering, their cries of fear cutting through the air.
Riven turned toward them instinctively, his heart sinking. When he looked back, Kael was gone, their form dissolving into the shadows. The only sign of their presence was the faint hum of the Void’s energy lingering in the air.
Lyra hovered beside him, her glow dim. “They didn’t come to win, Riven,” she said quietly. “They came to break you.”
Riven’s hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as he stared at the spot where Kael had disappeared. “Let’s see if they’re right,” he said, his voice low.
The wasteland was quiet again, save for the faint crackle of distant embers and the soft rustle of ash carried on the wind. Riven stood in the center of it, his sword hanging limply at his side, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths. Kael’s words echoed in his mind, their mocking tone refusing to fade.
The shard will show you the truth soon enough.
The survivors had retreated to a safe distance, huddled together like cornered animals. Their fear was palpable, their eyes darting between Riven and the spot where Kael had disappeared. The weight of their mistrust pressed down on him as much as the Void Corruption pulsing faintly in his veins.
Lyra hovered nearby, her glow dim and flickering. She studied Riven carefully, her expression a mixture of concern and frustration. “You’re letting them get to you,” she said quietly. “Kael wanted you to doubt yourself. Don’t give them that power.”
Riven didn’t respond immediately. He sheathed his sword with a sharp motion, the blade sliding into its scabbard with a hollow click. “It’s not that simple,” he said finally, his voice low. “They’re not wrong. The corruption’s spreading. I can feel it every time I draw on the Void to fight. What if they’re right, Lyra? What if I’m just...” He trailed off, unable to finish the thought.
Lyra floated closer, her glow softening. “What if you’re just what?” she prompted gently. “Broken? Corrupted? Beyond saving? You’re not. I’ve seen people fall to the Void, Riven. This isn’t the same. You’re still fighting.”
“For how long?” Riven shot back, his voice sharp. “How long until I stop fighting and give in? How long until I become another Kael?”
The sound of footsteps on loose stone pulled Riven from his thoughts. He turned to see the wiry man from before, his sharp eyes narrowed with suspicion. The makeshift spear in his hands trembled slightly, but his grip remained firm.
“What the hell was that?” the man demanded, gesturing toward the spot where Kael had vanished. “You brought them here, didn’t you?”
Riven’s jaw tightened. “They were following me, yes. But they would’ve come for this place eventually. The Veil doesn’t leave anything untouched.”
The man didn’t look convinced. “You’ve got that... thing inside you,” he said, pointing at the faint black veins visible on Riven’s forearm. “How do we know you’re not just like them?”
Riven opened his mouth to respond, but Lyra interjected first. Her glow flared, her voice sharp. “Because if he were like them, you’d already be dead. Riven has fought and bled to keep people like you alive. He’s carrying the corruption because he doesn’t have a choice, not because he wants to.”
The man hesitated, his grip on the spear tightening. “Maybe,” he said finally, his tone reluctant. “But that doesn’t mean we trust him. Or you.” He turned and stalked back toward the other survivors, his posture stiff with unease.
Riven watched the man leave, the weight of the exchange settling heavily on his shoulders. “They’re right not to trust me,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t trust me either.”
Lyra floated closer, her spectral form flickering faintly. “That’s exactly why you’re still in control, Riven,” she said softly. “You doubt yourself because you care about what happens if you lose. That’s what makes you different from Kael. They gave up—they stopped caring. You haven’t.”
Riven let out a bitter laugh, his hands clenching into fists. “What if caring isn’t enough? The corruption’s not slowing down, Lyra. If anything, it’s getting worse. And every time I use it, I can feel it pulling me deeper.”
Lyra’s glow dimmed briefly as if mirroring his unease. “You’re stronger than you think,” she said, her tone firm. “But we can’t ignore this. We need to find the next shard quickly before the Veil gets another chance to throw us off balance.”
Riven nodded slowly, his jaw tightening. “Right. The next shard.” He adjusted the strap of his pack, the faint glow of the shard within it a reminder of the weight he carried—not just physically, but emotionally.
As they prepared to move on, Riven felt the faintest tremor beneath his feet. He froze, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword. “Did you feel that?”
Lyra’s glow brightened slightly, her attention snapping to the ground. “The shard’s energy is shifting,” she said, her voice tense. “It’s like... it’s reacting to something.”
Riven pulled the shard from his pack, its light flickering erratically. The crimson hue seemed darker now, more volatile, as though the energy within it had been agitated by Kael’s presence. The pulse of the shard felt almost alive, like a heartbeat out of rhythm.
“This isn’t right,” Lyra said, her voice laced with unease. “The shard’s energy is supposed to stabilize after it’s removed from the Veil’s influence. But this... it’s changing. Corrupting.”
Riven’s grip on the shard tightened, his gaze hardening. “Then we have to figure out why,” he said. “If the Veil’s power is spreading into the shards we’ve already collected, it means we’re running out of time.”
Lyra nodded, though her expression remained troubled. “Agreed. But if this is happening to the shards you carry, it’s only a matter of time before the Veil finds a way to use them against you.”
Riven slipped the shard back into his pack, his resolve hardening. “Then we don’t give it the chance. We move now, before Kael or anyone else gets in our way.”
As they left the ruined settlement behind, Riven couldn’t shake the weight of Kael’s words—or the memory of their smirk as they vanished into the shadows. The corruption in his veins pulsed faintly, its whispers quieter now but no less insistent.
You’re no different, Riven. The Void is already inside you.
He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening as he forced the voices down. Lyra floated beside him, her presence a steady reminder that he wasn’t alone—but for how long, he couldn’t be sure.
In the distance, the faint outline of another realm loomed against the horizon, its jagged edges blurred by the haze of the Veil’s corruption. The path ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear: whatever waited for him there would demand more than just strength.
It would demand everything.