The world had come back to life. That didn’t seem right to Riven. It didn’t feel right in any way. Either he trembled ever so slightly or the ground did, the air flowed past his cold face, the chill of the night was slowly seeping into his very bones, and distant sounds pierced his ears. Everything had returned to normal.
Everything, except Glaven.
Riven stood up, and yes, it was him that was shaking. His legs were little better than twigs now. He’d scream, but his throat had gone hoarse and when was the last time he’d drunk anything? His vision swam as though the whole scene before him was playing out in an aquarium, and he couldn’t breathe properly, much less do anything to fix what had happened.
He should move. Had to, needed to. Glaven was dying and if Riven didn’t get to him soon enough, he’d be gone for good. Who was going to save him from powerful Essentiers then?
But his brother wasn’t moving at all.
Beyond Glaven’s prone body with the sword sticking it out of it like a tombstone and the blood pooling around him in a wide corona, Weathering was getting up. Why was she getting up? She was the killer here, and she was the last person who deserved to be fine after everything that had happened. Wasn’t there any sense of justice in this broken world? How dare Weathering be okay?
Riven stilled for a moment. Then he stepped forward, his legs no longer shaking. He paused once at his brother’s corpse, eyes inexorably going to the wound over Glaven’s heart. His eyes were half-open as though even dead, Glaven still had to see the world, had to keep an eye on all that was his.
Steeling himself, Riven was about to walk past his brother when Glaven coughed.
Riven turned, hardly daring to breathe. He fell to his knees next to his brother, heart pounding as though to leap out of his chest and replace Glaven’s broken one.
“Riven…” Glaven’s voice was impossibly weak.
“Take it easy.” Riven’s was shaky, so he cleared his throat. He had to be strong for both of them. “Don’t worry about anything. I’m here now, and I’ll take care of everything, okay?”
Glaven didn’t look like he’d heard anything. He grasped Riven’s hand in a grip cold as death. “Listen to me…” He breathed in deep, and his face turned a shade paler. Riven tried to speak, tried to tell him to shut up and conserve what little strength he had and hold back his words until he was in a safe. But Glaven’s eyes were demanding him to keep quiet. To listen. “Take that sword… and win. I know you… can do it.”
Riven shook his head. “No, you’re not going to die, you bastard. You didn’t come this far just to die now. I’m going to get you help, get you to where the research facility is, and then you’ll be fine. You’ll see.”
For all that Glaven was at death’s doorstep, his grip was strong. He coughed, and his face became whiter than ever. “You need… to find Father. And Mother… too. Tell them… you can take my place.”
“What? What are you talking about? You’re their eldest son, how in the world am I supposed to take your place?”
“All… part… of… plan. Go.”
“No. No.” Riven cradled Glaven’s head, looked into his glassy eyes. His Essence came bursting out of him, but even the golden lines whirling around Glaven did nothing. “You’re not dead. You can’t die. Do something.” Riven stared at his Essence at the lines of gold floating in the air as though they were perplexed. “Do something!”
It did nothing. His Essence was ultimately useless. It could extend Glaven’s life after that debacle with the Deadmage in Welmark but it couldn’t bring him back alive.
“Take the… sword…” Glaven said no more.
His body was growing colder by the second.
“Useless,” Riven shouted. He glared at the gold floating everywhere, and as though wilting under his rage, it seemed to melt, to turn not streams of liquid that nonetheless still floated in the air. “What the fuck is the point of you? Survive? Where’s the survival now? Why can’t you help him survive? Why didn’t—”
Riven’s voice broke. He’d been screaming too loud, and his already hoarse voice couldn’t take any more strain. The only words he could force out were in broken whispers.
All the while, Glaven’s corpse grew cold as a frozen grave.
For a moment, Riven was thrown back into the hospital in Providence, sitting beside Glaven’s bed as his brother lay comatose. It hadn’t been this hard then. There had been the assurance it was temporary, that Glaven would recover after a while and be his regular, bastardly self, but not so now. Back when they were children, though Glaven had been tall enough that no one mistook him for a child, he’d gotten knocked out after some silly fight. His face had been masked in blood, his nose broken and jaw fractured, and Mother had been just like Riven. Frozen, petrified in place, unable to think or do anything but stay beside her eldest.
They’d all thought Glaven was going to die.
Even Father had come back to Norreston when Riven’s brother was admitted into a hospital. He had made a valiant recovery, but Riven couldn’t shake the scene from his head. He was reliving it again, but now he was in Mother’s place, helpless and watching on as his brother died.
It was impossible to move. Riven was frozen too, petrified as though he was turning into a corpse as well. He might as well, right? Dead or alive, he was useless as always. He had let his own brother die. For all his postulations and growing prowess, for everything he might have ever been able to do and was capable of now, he had still failed when it came to the ultimate thing.
There was a flash of red behind him. It took some effort, but Riven turned his head. The world was still swimming in his sight, but it wasn’t impossible to make out every little detail. Riven got the gist of what was happening. It made him grow colder than ever.
Weathering was helping Olsten out of his little predicament. She had dug into quicksand and was trying to pull him out, while her Essence Slowed his sinking. Weathering was going to help Olsten after killing off Glaven.
Not under Riven’s watch.
It was surprisingly easy to get up, despite being weighed down with Sept, with Glaven’s blood staining his trouser, and so much else he couldn’t even begin to process. His legs seemed to be filled with energy, all the lethargy of moments ago fading like mist in sunlight. Glaven’s fall had pushed Weathering’s sword in such a way, the tip was all that remained in his broken chest and Riven had no trouble gripping the hilt.
He pulled it out. There was a terrible squelching sound, but it was easy to ignore. The blade was lighter than he’d thought, easy to lift and swing. Coral was like that—light but strong and durable.
Taking in a deep breath, Riven set forward, eyes fixed on the enemy before him. Vengeance was going to be his. No, not vengeance. Justice.
He could do that much.
Riven made no secret of his approach. Weathering looked up before he was even halfway close, Olsten staring with wide eyes as every step brought Riven closer to the two arseholes who needed to be taught an important lesson. Who needed to the judged and executed. It was the least they deserved. His vision had cleared just as his mind had, the clouds dissipating to leave one lone image clear. A single vision of his purpose.
Weathering got up and stepped in front of Olsten.
“Firstmarked,” Olsten said, something strange filling his voice. Something Riven couldn’t exactly parse. Was that caution? Fear? “You don’t have to do this, Firstmarked. Leave me be and do what you need to. I can take care of myself.”
“Don’t be foolish Olsten,” Weathering said, her voice tight with suppressed emotion. “We’re both getting out of this alive.”
There was something decidedly strange there that made Riven’s steps slow for a moment. But he shook his head. He had a purpose to see through, and damn it, he was going to fulfil it. Riven swung the sword in front of him. Weathering would see just what it felt like to be cut by her own blade.
She attempted a flimsy defence. Well, perhaps not flimsy, but Riven’s was less flimsy than that. The pressure roared out him like a crashing meteor, his Essence shield colliding with her red Essence and pushed through it, albeit Riven’s progress was slower than before. It was much like walking through a storm where the winds were trying to push him back. Everything was Slower, just as Weathering had intended.
Riven wasn’t pushed back though. He forged onwards, indomitable as Glaven always had been.
“Now, Firstmarked!” Olsten shouted.
The red Essence disappeared. Riven stumbled forward, the force of his push now causing him to lose control of his movement. In her Essence’s place, Olsten’s teal one charged in. Riven was ready though. As it shot towards him, he rooted himself in his spot, then forced more of his Essence out to rapidly expand his shield. Gold and teal met a dozen yards from Riven.
Then he made his shield snap.
Just as the momentum was imparted from Olsten’s Essence and his spherical shield was snapping behind, Riven focused on safety. He’d be safe as soon as he’d killed those two. And to do that, his Essence needed to obey him.
Riven wasn’t thrown back. His shield absorbed the momentum from Olsten’s Essence and disappeared before it could strike Riven. Safe, as he said.
He charged.
“Shit!” Olsten shouted. “Firstmarked, go!”
Weathering didn’t move. Her face had set in a fierce scowl, but she stood her ground, her Essence weaving up again, ready to strike. Riven didn’t baulk. His fleet flew over the ground, the purpose clear before him, their minor obstacles no impediment to his attack.
With a shout, Weathering threw her red Essence at Riven but he was ready for it. His shield absorbed most of the Slowing, and he pushed through it. His Essence barged into hers, and he pulled on all the Sept he had, forcing it against the red Essence of the Firstmarked of Ascension Demesne.
There was that feeling again. The world started to slow, and Riven turned sluggish. He refused to let it stop him, but his thoughts were scrambling on their own, and his limbs were growing heavier by the moment.
How? Weathering’s Essence hadn’t made it inside his golden hemisphere, right? Riven’s eyes darted everywhere, and he spotted the problem. Minute cracks had opened up on his shield, and the tiniest bits of Weathering’s Essence had made their way through, infecting Riven’s personal space and Slowing him down just as she was doing to the rest of the world. Damn it, maybe being hyper-focused on this singular purpose of his wasn’t such a good idea.
He focused, closing his eyes to pull in every iota of his Essence from every bit of Sept he possessed. It was true that he was now near enough that Weathering was likely using the same Sept that he was. No matter. Riven’s pull was stronger. He was sure of it.
His shield reformed, the Slowness of the world near him disappearing so that he could move with normal ease again. Then he expanded it. His shield grew with the speed of a fired bullet, and it raced outwards, pushing away the red Essence as though it was little more than crimson gas. Weathering’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before she threw herself down over the prone form of Olsten.
Riven stopped his shield from blowing both of them away. He didn’t want to have to walk even further to get to them, so he halted his shield’s expansion mere inches from his opponents.
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They both looked up, surprised at not having been blasted back. No, blasting wouldn’t do.
Riven let go of his Essence for a second, letting his shield start to dissipate. He still had Weathering’s Coral sword in his hand, and he meant to use it. Before either of them could get any silly ideas, he rooted himself before them and focused again. His Essence armour reformed but not around him this time. Instead, he cloaked both his adversaries with his golden armour.
If Glaven hadn’t been dead, the surprise etched on both their faces would have filled Riven with contentment. It would have been enough for Riven to call it a day and leave. He’d ensured victory, after all. But it wasn’t enough. His brother wasn’t coming back, and it was all because of these two arseholes before him.
“Firstmarked,” Olsten said. “You need to go.”
Weathering didn’t move. “What did I tell you, Olsten? I’m not going anywhere.”
No crimson came out of them, nor did any teal. As Riven had suspected, Essence came out from within everyone. By encasing them in armour, he made sure their Essence would no longer bother him, especially since all the Sept he was carrying made his Essence impossibly strong.
“Please, Firstmarked.” Olsten was outright begging now. His voice dripped with a sudden fear, a fear for someone other than him, and Riven had to pause. No, these were his enemies. They deserved the harshest of retributions after what they’d done. “Leave me be. You cannot let Ascension fail, not you, the premier Essentier of the Demesne. The High Invigilator needs you.”
“So do you, Olsten.” Weathering had gone quiet, and though her words were low, they hit Riven with the force of boulders blasted like cannon fire. “And I need you.”
Riven froze. What… what was he doing? Had he sunk to their level, about to tear them apart from each other all in the name of his basest desires? The sword trembled in his hand. When had he become so cruel?
Weathering jumped. Maybe it was all a charade, bent on making Riven pause. Or maybe she just took advantage of the opportunity to save herself. It worked to an extent.
But to an extent only.
Strong as Riven’s shield was, it wasn’t enough to stop them from moving. Olsten was stuck in the quicksand, but Weathering was able to force herself up, though she was far too slow. Slow enough for Riven to note the snarl on her face, to let the ferocity from her affect him, to rekindle the fire of his own purpose. Olsten shouted another warning, another plea for her to use the opportunity to save herself, but she ignored it.
Riven stabbed with his sword. With her sword. Her motion meant it only pierced her leg, breaking through Riven’s armour as he forced his Essence to slow down its recuperation.
It still pieced right into Olsten’s head.
Having weakened the armour around Olsten’s head, Riven had no trouble stabbing the blue Coral sword into Olsten’s eye. The Secondmarked didn’t even scream. There was no space for him to deflect the blow with his Essence, not when Riven’s golden one had trapped the teal so close to his body. His body jerked once then lay still, blood leaking out of his torn eye socket in a single, crimson tear track.
Olsten might not have screamed, but Weathering made up for it. Her shriek made Riven wince. The raw anguish of it, the pain given audible form, was all too familiar. Hadn’t his own scream been like that when Glaven had died? It wasn’t easy to lose someone like that. Wasn’t easy at all, to feel as though an entire part of oneself had been ripped away.
But oh Scions, what had he done? What had he torn away from her?
“You fucking arsehole!” she shouted at him. “You killed him. You—you fucking piece of shit!”
She didn’t charge at him, didn’t fly at him, didn’t throw herself forward in a savage need to seek retribution of her own. It would have made things easier. Maybe it was because her leg was pinned by her won sword thanks to him, or the shock had frozen her just as Riven had been petrified at the moment of Glaven’s true passing. Whatever the case, Riven was once again frozen too.
Killing Tam to get away, to free himself from the insanity of that fight in the hospital, had been one thing. This was different. He had deliberated, and decided to kill anyway. He had summoned a coldness he never should have been capable of.
Best to get it over with. Weathering’s screams would tear apart his eardrums at this rate.
He pulled the sword out of her leg. She shrieked at the pain, staggering backwards, though she did a great job of retaining her footing. Blood poured out of the hole in her calf, and her eyes were wild. Feral, and savage. Unpredictable.
Riven swung the sword, but Weathering ducked under the blow and fell to the ground. She threw herself forward but the golden Essence weighed her down and Riven avoided her easily. He aimed a vicious kick and threw her back.
Enough was enough. She had to die.
Riven stabbed down with the blue Coral sword. He hesitated for a moment but it didn’t matter. Weathering made no further move to save herself or inconvenience Riven in any way. The sword pushed through the armour and sank into her chest, right where she had stabbed Glaven. She gasped, her eyes growing wide and her body jerking at the automatic need to get away from the agony of certain death. Riven twisted the blade for good measure. No, she was going to die, just as Olsten had.
Just as Glaven had.
Riven held the blade where it was for a long while, pinning her to the ground. Weathering stopped reacting moments after the stab, her breath slowing down, her small struggles ceasing, and her eyes growing distant. But Riven fixed himself there in that moment, unwilling to let go.
What came after this? She was dead, and now what? There was nothing left for him. No clue, no idea, no direction for him to pursue. His life was empty.
Weathering’s arms shot out and grasped the blade. For a few moments, Riven only blinked. What? She was supposed to be dead. Riven had stabbed her right through the heart and the twist of the blade should have torn it up. She wasn’t supposed to have the strength to make her lungs push and pull air out of her body, much less raise an arm.
But when Riven pulled, the sword didn’t budge. Her grip was strong, too strong. Riven stared past her hand, still encased in Riven’s Essence armour, and settled on her eyes. They weren’t glassy anymore. A fire burned there, the fierce flames of revenge and retribution burning away everything until all that was left was a vision of Riven’s death.
He swallowed, then pulled harder. The sword came up, but then so did Weathering. She rose off the ground like some apparition coming out of a grave. He hadn’t noticed that she was as tall as him, easily able to bore holes into his eyes.
Weathering’s kick caught Riven in the guts, and his grip on the sword broke. He flew back, landing hard. She came closer, each step inexorable as though she was pushing against a mountain.
He forced himself up, ignoring the burning rekindled along the cuts along his back and on his palm. There was no point in trying to keep her contained in his own armour. Riven focused for a moment, and the golden Essence on her shifted until it had formed a globe around her head. There. With her breath gone, she’d suffocate and die. Maybe the monster never had a heart to begin with.
Weathering didn’t stop. It didn’t look like she was suffocating, didn’t look like she’d been stabbed at all. She pulled the blade from her chest and not a single drop of blood spilled to the ground. All that came from the hole was her flickering red Essence, as though Essence flowed in her body instead of blood.
Riven stared. There was no way to make any sense of that. How was she—Slowing. Of course. He swallowed. Had she somehow Slowed her own process of dying? Had she somehow granted herself temporary immortality?
Just Riven’s luck.
It didn’t matter. She still couldn’t move fast enough—then she charged as though to disprove his foolish notion. Weathering swung her sword fast as a viper strike, but Riven had his armour ready as the golden globe around her head disappeared. It cracked under her blow, but the blade didn’t touch his skin as he grabbed it with his hands.
“Die you little shit!” she screamed.
Weathering didn’t pull it back. Instead, her foot came up in another vicious kick, and Riven flew back with her sword this time. Stupid. He needed to stop stupidly assuming things.
Weathering charged at him like a cornered tiger. Her Essence flared around, filling her within and rushing out from her as it aimed to charge and swallow up Riven, seeking to Slow him to death. He couldn’t let it touch him. One brush against it, and he’d be deader than Glaven.
He dodged her charge, then swung the blade at her. Bad move. She might have been disoriented, but her Essence slowed down his blow and she caught the blade easily.
Another kick, and though Riven somewhat blocked it this time with his forearm, the force of it sent him staggering back. He didn’t get the chance to right himself. She swung her sword like an insane club, not even caring that it wasn’t held the right way, the blade biting into Riven’s armour as the hilt struck him like a mace.
He fell back under her storm of blows. All the Sept meant he was able to replenish his Essence armour quickly enough, but the force of her hits couldn’t be stopped Unless…
Riven focused, expanding his armour into a shield and trying to throw Weathering back. It slowed as it touched the red Essence, and somehow, she broke through his shield. He was shocked for only a second. Another moment of focus, and though his shield of golden air died, he created a cocoon of gold-wrapped earth all around him.
There was a thump as Weathering was unable to stop her charge in time. She collided with the rocks. That ought to set her back. Now Riven just had to—
The blue Coral sword burst through the rock shield like it was butter. Riven shrieked as the blade tore a gash on his shoulder. Focus. He steadied his breathing, made the rock shield crumble, then ran backwards and away from Weathering.
His eyes went wide even as he stumbled back. A monster. She was a veritable monster and she wasn’t going to rest until he had died. How was he going to stop her?
Even as he ran back, mind scrambling to pick up some dreg of a plan to halt her with, Weathering charged in again. Her red Essence was bright as blood-soaked rubies, glimmering everywhere and whirling around her in a scarlet storm. One touch, and Riven would turn into a corpse.
He froze all of a sudden. Focus. He needed to focus to survive. Golden lines burst out of him, forming a platelike shield parallel to the ground. He jumped on even as Weathering rushed in, her red Essence conquering and claiming the ground where he’d been standing moments ago as her own. Another moment of focus and one more horizontal shield popped up in the air. Riven continued jumping, up and up and away from Weathering and her Slowing Essence.
“You can’t escape that easily,” Weathering shouted.
When Riven was on his sixth shield, more than twenty yards above the ground, he looked down, only to see Weathering rising in the air.
He froze, mouth falling open. Was this the true power of an unleashed Firstmarked? She had jumped—apparently, the wound on her leg that Riven had gifted her was nothing—and her red Essence fell under her into a column as though it was a crimson spar, elevating her higher and higher above the ground. Riven blinked. She had Slowed down gravity’s pull, enough that she wasn’t falling back. Enough, in fact, that her jump might well take her beyond the atmosphere if killing Riven hadn’t been her primary goal.
How in the Chasm was he to beat an opponent who could fly?
Just as Weathering reached the same height as Riven, he made his horizontal Essence shield disappear. Weathering swung, but Riven fell. She cursed, then dived after Riven, sword held out in front of her like the point of a lightning bolt aiming to stab right through him.
Riven pulled on his round Essence shield and it absorbed the impact with the ground. Wouldn’t stop Weathering though. Not with her red Essence charging ahead of her like a thousand crimson fangs. Riven needed another plan, something tangible with which he could beat back this monster seeking retribution.
He got no time to think. Chasm, he hardly had any time to keep himself alive. Weathering fell like a meteor, crashing through Riven’s shield as he rolled away from the point of impact and the red Essence waving up everywhere.
Riven got up, pulling his Essence armour on as rapidly as he could to stave off the blows of the Coral sword. It swung in everywhere, Weathering looking to slice him to ribbons. His armour blocked all of the blows, but every strike took off a chip, left a wide crack, shattered a bit of his Essence. No matter. With all his Sept, Riven could replace it quick enough. But he was falling back, step by step, faster than he would have liked. It wasn’t just her hits. The red Essence tried to assault him alongside Weathering, and Riven danced back as fast as his legs could carry him.
He was getting tired though. His legs were turning to lead weights again, and he’d fall to the ground in exhaustion at any moment. Scions, not yet. He needed to find some way to get out of this mess first. Some way to win.
Weathering’s next strike broke the armour on his left arm and the blue sword stabbed in. Riven shrieked at the sudden pain, cutting it off just as quickly it had arrived and throwing himself backwards.
More blows rained in, the blue Coral blade almost a blur in Weathering’s grip. Damn, he’d been so stupid to think he could use it at even a tenth of what Weathering was capable of. He kept dancing backwards, but the blood pulsing out of his wound distracted him. Another blow, and his shoulder was gashed open, a small strip of clothes and flesh dangling off. Shit, that hurt.
The next blow nearly took his head off, and though Riven dodged enough, the blade still scalped a nasty cut across his temples and along his cheek. Great, his face was ruined too.
Riven paused all of a sudden, then threw a punch forward. She’d come too far forward of her Essence, and now that he wasn’t going to be Slowed, he could hit her with his full strength. It didn’t work. So idiotic of him to think such a silly trick would. Weathering pivoted on one leg to dodge him and stabbed her sword into the groove of Riven’s elbow. The blow pierced through his Essence armour and another bloom of pian tore up his arm.
Worse, his arm hung useless at his side now, blood slowly coating it in a new crimson glove. It took an enormous effort not to cry out at the sensation of a hot rod jabbing in straight to his bones. How was he supposed to defend himself with one arm out?
At Weathering’s next blow, Riven jumped back. He turned and ran. There was nothing for him here, and all the little spikes of agony rolling across his body like waves in a storm drowned all desires of vengeance. What damn vengeance if he didn’t even make it out alive?
That monster couldn’t follow fast enough. She’d been taken by surprise, and the shock would give Riven ample time to get the Chasm away from certain death.
Weathering’s sword speared into his leg from behind.
Riven screamed out, then fell. His Essence armour shattered completely at the impact with the ground, and though the earth slapped him with a vicious sting, he hardly felt it over the pulsing pain in his leg. His whole body trembled, and surely his leg was trying to saw itself off if the agony was to be believed. He screamed again as he turned his trembling head to look back.
Holy, fucking Scions, Weathering’s sword had stabbed right through his calf, both halves of the sword jutting out from either end.
Riven was done for. Death was all that awaited him now.
Apparently, Weathering thought so too. Riven could only stare at the sign of his death written all over her face. There was an ugly smile on her face, and her gait was slow as she approached him. It was over, and she knew she had won.
Then she paused. Her face changed expressions too rapidly for Riven to get what was happening. Fear, sadness, a sense of inevitability and more he could understand. Couldn’t even recognize past the film of tears blurring his sight.
Then Weathering fell unceremoniously to the ground. Nothing had happened, yet she slumped down and didn’t move.
Her mouth did though, and in the sudden silence, her words were louder than funeral bells. “You didn’t win… bastard. Orbray will make you pay for this. You’ll fail and… you’ll die.”
There was more, but they came out in broken whispers. The words of the dead. Riven didn’t need to hear those, not when everything was so evidently clear.
Weathering had Slowed her death, but it had finally caught up.
Her last words still invaded his ears, a last knife twisting into the one place Riven had been spared thus far. Right into his heart.
“At least… I’ll see you again, Olsten.”