Riven didn’t die. Or maybe he did, but the afterlife felt very different from what he had expected. It was as if Lacelle’s Essence had transported him back to that moment when he had been facing the Cataclysm, turning the world topsy-turvy and distant.
The little pocket of separate space, the mini-dimension that Lacelle occupied whenever she disappeared, was like the Beyond. Or what little of the Beyond Riven had experienced thanks to the Cataclysm. The colours were muted, but also quite different—the cream walls had turned magenta, the floor a toxic green, the corpses a dull brown, and the fighting Essentiers a murky grey like smoke—and exceedingly garish. But they were hazy as well. As Lacelle walked away from where Riven had been consumed alive, her outline grew blurrier until she was little better than a smudge seen through a foggy window.
But Riven was alive. He had to be, right? He felt his chest rising and falling, his heart pumping out blood, the wounds all over him still annoying him with their torturous jolts.
He stared around. The panic had subsided now that he knew he wasn’t fully dead, but it was still shadowing him, ready to leap in at any moment. Lacelle had never been able to make contact while she had been here, in her pocket dimension. She’d always had to come out in gouts of flaming orange Essence. But how was Riven going to get out? If Lacelle’s Essence was the only viable path that let her come and go as she saw fit, then how in the Chasm was he supposed to get out of here?
Riven could walk. As he discovered, he could do everything he had done in the real world, except the real world was little more than a shadow. He could do everything, but he couldn’t interact with images. Scions, he was helpless and useless.
Lacelle would join the fight and Viriya would die.
He looked over, heart beating faster as the implications of his situation sank in like an anchor. Riven ran forward, but even when he got closer, the others remained as hazy shadows. He ran on and passed right through them. Shit. What was he going to do now?
That panic was settling back in and Riven breathed hard and fast, eyes shifting everywhere but seeing nothing. He was going to die. No, Viriya was going to die first because he was a complete idiot who fucked everything up. He would stay here, useless and helpless, unable to do anything as the world passed on. As everything and everyone he knew went on with their lives, he’d become a forgotten footnote, trapped in this little bubble that Lacelle had created. He was going to die. From starvation, from thirst, from sheer boredom and crushing despair, from the fact that Rose was doomed, and who knew where the fuck Father was, and he had left Mother all alone and—
Riven screamed and closed his eyes, falling in on himself on the ground. His throat had broken earlier, but he screamed again anyway, as loud as he could. The sound tore into his ears and he didn’t stop, even after he was shivering and shaking on the ground, the tears leaking out of his eyes and adding to the blood that fell from the wound on the side of his head and his thigh.
When he finally ran out of breath and couldn’t scream even if he’d demanded his body to do so, he could see again. Think again, too. Riven blinked, trying to properly take in where he was. No, he knew where he was, he just needed to know how far this dimension extended. He stood up and walked towards the walls. It stung him to ignore Viriya but he couldn’t help her while he was stuck.
Orange flames flickered along the walls. Now that he looked, he saw the whole area was bordered by more orange Essence everywhere, all of which was burning bright as a bonfire. Riven made to touch it, but that felt dangerous. Instead, he tore off a length of his jacket—it was already torn, so he only had to pull off the strip—and pushed it against the flames.
It stopped in its tracks. Of course, silly him. He was poking at a wall. Riven turned around and walked towards the stairs. He couldn’t see them thanks to the burning orange Essence curtaining it off, though he caught glimpses of it leading downstairs. It looked.. normal, beyond Lacelle’s little personal space. When he pushed the slip of fabric in after reaching the orange Essence, it passed through. He pulled it back, gasping at the result.
Half of it was gone.
The exit was here. But the exit to where? Would this lead him back to the real world, or would he cease to exist entirely? It seemed too convenient for him to die just like that. Too… easy.
Riven stepped back for a moment. He focused, his pressure building from within as he crafted the golden armour around him. There, he was covered all over. It couldn’t be that bad. He hesitated, though. What if he really did die, dissipating to nothing outside this fiery boundary? Forcing himself past his doubts and fears, Riven pushed one hand through the wall of orange fire. He couldn’t feel anything, which was on par for the course given he was covered by his Essence armour. Riven wasn’t supposed to feel anything. But then, was anything even there?
He pulled his hand back, and his heartbeat restarted. When had his damn heart paused? His hand was fine. There was nothing different at all, no sign that he had just pushed it through a wall of flames.
Riven swallowed. What if he was building up this boundary like it was some huge thing when in truth, there was no difference between its two sides? He could be deluding himself for all he knew. The thought stabbed his heart. Riven shook his head. Well, he could suppose whatever he wanted, but the only way to find out was to go through the damn wall of fire. Taking a deep breath, Riven plunged through.
Emerging into the Beyond.
There was nothing else this insanity could be. He was standing—or floating, maybe—in an ocean of nothingness, a huge expanse of darkness extending out in every side he could see. Little pinpricks of light glinted in the distance, and there were a few oddities closer at hand. Rocks floated at various places, supported by nothing, and there was an enormous orb floating away from him in the distance.
Riven blinked. A world. That had been a world that was floating away. The fuck?
He swallowed, and when he looked back, there was more of the same. More of this endless cosmos he had stepped into stretching out into the distance. How had he ended so far above the surface of the world? How was he now in a plane of existence where the celestial bodies were visible to the naked eye, roving through space under the eyes of a million stars? What in the world was Lacelle’s Essence?
Riven looked up. Was that even up? Internal debates about orientation soon left his thoughts as his eyes widened, witness to what he’d never thought he’d be seeing. At least, not this close.
He was in the presence of a Scion.
What else could that starry figure be? It was the exact same shape he had seen when he had fought the Cataclysm, the same Scion who had parted the sky to see how one of their vaunted servants were doing. The Scion above him was made of several glowing stars clustered together in a tight constellation of a larger, seven-pointed star, the whole thing embedded in a gold-and-orange nebula. Golden like Riven’s Essence and orange like Lacelle’s. Was there some connection?
“Where in the world am I?” Riven muttered. His heart seemed to stop. Could the Scion… hear him? He had talked with the being once before. Or at least, he had pleaded and begged and the Scion had listened, granting his wish. Would it do the same now? “O great Scion. Can—can you hear me? Can I ask where am I?”
The Scion didn’t answer. That was a stupid question, so Riven couldn’t blame them for not saying anything. It was obvious he was in the Beyond. Somehow, Lacelle’s Essence had created a portal that had led him not just right into the Beyond, but right on the Scion’s doorstep as well. Unless, of course, he was dead and this was what happened to Essentiers in the afterlife.
“Hello, Scion?” Riven asked again. He tried to be polite. This was the greatest divine being after all. “O great one, can you tell me if you can hear me?”
The Scion made no answer. Their stars glimmered, a few of them winking as though to send a signal. But he had no idea what that might have indicated.
“She cannot hear you.”
The voice made Riven jump. Or he would have, but he was floating in space so there was nothing to jump off of, and all he could do was jerk and twist awkwardly. Though that brought the question of how he was still alive. How was he able to breathe, stay warm, not burst apart under the lack of pressure and what not?
Riven shivered once he had settled down. Now that his shock was under control, he recognized that voice.
It was the broken god.
“Why do you not speak?” the god asked.
Riven looked down. Far below was an abyss. A swirling abyss. Its arms stretched out in every direction, light streaming in from distant stars to give the accretion disc around its centre a bright glow. It looked beautiful, but only because it stole the brilliance of others. That abyss had nothing of its own to give or show.
“Who are you?” Riven asked. The panic came rushing back in, rising his as a tidal wave about to sink the entire tiny island of fortitude he had raised up. Now that he had established contact with someone, he had free rein to unload all that he thought and felt, right? “Where am I? I—what is this place? How did I get here, and how the fuck do I get back?”
This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it
He was silent for a moment after that. Riven closed his eye, trying to control himself. No. No, he couldn’t break down again. He needed rational thought. Opening his eyes, Riven noted certain aspects of the cosmos he had come in. The distant planet, the Scion above him, the array of brilliant stars in the impossible distance. They helped ground him, and he relaxed, if only by a fraction.
“I am a god,” the god said. Their voice floated from the abyss below. Riven couldn’t place the tone, or volume, or anything else about the god. No telling if they were male or female, no telling if they were young or old. Well old, given that they were a god. But no telling what Riven might imagine they looked like. Chasm, that voice wasn’t even coming from below. It sounded as though it was popping right into his head, coming from everywhere both outside and within.
“Yes I could tell that much,” Riven said. “You’re broken too. Who are you specifically?”
“You know I am shattered?” There was a strange incredulity in their voice, like they were surprised to find someone who cared. “How have you found out?”
“You can’t answer a question with another question.”
“You are right.” The god sounded admonished. Chagrined even. What kind of a god was this being? “I am Vor Ert Mezti Fortrar Elserob Alb.”
Riven blinked. “Alb. Got it. Now, can you answer the rest of my questions please, Alb?”
“My name isn’t Alb. It’s—”
“Yes, I know what your real name is. Frankly, I don’t care. You’re Alb to me, and that should be enough.” Riven had no idea where this brazenness was coming from. He knew little about gods, but it was well known they were celestial beings not to be trifled with. Then again, what sort of god got blasted here, torn to pieces, and trapped in a sinkhole? “Do you know how I can get out of here?”
“I do.”
Riven waited, but no further answer came. “Well, how in the world do I get out? I’m tired of this place. I have important business to take care of, and it involves that Scion.”
When Riven jerked his head upwards, he had the distinct impression the abyss far beneath his feet was looking up at the Scion too. Did that broken god still have eyes somewhere on them?
“I can tell you the way out,” the god said. “But I need an assurance from you first.”
“What sort of assurance?”
“That you will use your power to become as powerful as you can.”
Riven frowned. “Why do you want me to promise such a thing?”
“You are meant for great things, but you will reach none of them if you do not work.”
Destined for great things. Riven tried not to let that settle into his head, but it was difficult. He had been avoiding thinking of what Orbray had planned with the Scion summoning or what the Chosen were doing out in the mortal realm. Or what in the world that Cataclysm had descended for. He did his best to keep them to himself.
The god was alive and well. Well, as well a broken being could be. The Chosen they had met, the Scion’s Hand, must have stopped the Cataclysm before he had a chance to kill the god.
“And what sort of work did you have in store for me?” Riven asked.
“I have nothing. I know little of your world or what you can find there. All I know is that the Chosen are in turmoil over the conflict among the Scions, and more Chosen will needed to be… chosen.”
Riven froze. His breaths wouldn’t come in, and even his heart seemed to have petrified. “Me? A Chosen?”
“Perhaps, one day, who can tell. I don’t know the future.”
“You’re a lousy god.”
“I shall continue to pretend my ignorance of whatever that word means and disregard the tone of voice you used against me.”
Riven considered for a second. This was the perfect time to ask. It wasn’t like he was going to come in contact with a god every day whenever he wished. Not unless he somehow got doused by Lacelle’s orange Essence again, and that seemed a long shot. A part of him wanted to kill her even now. Besides, he was still reeling from what he had heard so far. Still trying to come to grips with the fact he had come to the Beyond of all places. The Beyond. It seemed unbelievable.
There was no telling when Riven would be here again.
“Alb, why did the Cataclysm come down to kill you?” Riven asked.
“I was a target of their assassination. The Cataclysm was commanded to do so by one of the Scions.”
“Wait, so not this Scion?” Riven looked up, facing the orange-and-gold nebula, where the starry figure of the Scion was nestled. “Another wanted, or still wants, you dead? That one sent the Cataclysm?”
“Yes.”
“Well, why does that Scion want you dead then?”
Alb took a moment to answer. Or maybe they were trying to form their thoughts in an order that made sense. “The politics of this is a long game. I was trying to escape another assassination attempt, but when I fled here, I was waylaid by another of these Deathless. A Revenant if I recall correctly. I managed to escape and landed as a meteor in your world. The Fifth Scion—Yulring Eo—had sent that Revenant to kill me, the same Scion that had later sent the Cataclysm you saw.”
Riven tried to connect the dots, though the timing of everything was daunting for his brain to keep in mind. “So you were being hunted by a different god, and you think that god must have asked one of the Scions, this Yulring Eo, to kill you?”
“Essentially.”
“Shit,” Riven muttered.
He had never realized these divine beings could be so… bloodthirsty? No. Dangerous? That was a given. No, mundane. They too worked like people, like beings who were driven by much the same concept of desires and wants and needs. There didn’t seem anything divine about killing other gods to achieve—what?
“Why did Yulring agree to kill you?” Riven asked.
“That might be between Yulring and the god who hunted me.”
“And who is this god?”
“Savoian Secular Hielvar.”
There was something strange about that name, though Riven couldn’t point to what exactly. It wasn’t just the outlandishness, but rather, the strange sense of familiarity he got from it. It was almost as though he had heard it somewhere before, though he was sure he had never.
The planet that had been floating away was now coming back at him, but from the opposite side. What was it revolving around? There was no star nearby unless the Scion above exerted an immense gravitational field.
“Who’s this Scion then?” Riven asked.
“The Seventh Scion. Solvane” Alb paused, but not for long. “I have answered a great many questions. I believe it is your turn to answer a few of mine.”
“You haven’t answered anywhere near enough.”
“I have not?”
“No. For instance, tell me if the other Scions are mad at the Scion who attacked you. I’ve heard some talk of a conflict among the Scions, and I want to know where things stand.”
“Ah, that is simple. Most of them hate me, but none of them agree with the one who attacked me. They wished to stay out of this… Celestial War, if you will.”
“So they turned on this Scion? Is that what this conflict is about?”
“Well… not exactly. Things have shifted over the centuries. At first, the remaining six all condemned the Fifth Scion for daring to strike me, though mostly for dragging the rest of them into the Celestial War. Now however, after centuries of little events, they have come to the realization that excising me from where I lie is their best option. They now intend to finish the job Yulring started and get rid of me. Easier to appease the one who hunts me, now that I am so weakened.”
“Except…?”
“Except Solvane has no intentions of letting that happen.”
Riven looked up. So that was why the Scion’s Hand had followed the Cataclysm into the pit at the Frontier, and had stopped the demon from killing Alb. “The Seventh Scion is it?” The being glowed, stars winking in and out in a strange but regular pattern. Was that some sign? “Why do they—sorry, She—want to protect you?”
“I wish I knew.”
Riven took a deep breath and stared out. There was no telling what he was breathing since the cosmos was supposed to be vast stretches of nothingness, but then he was alive when he was really supposed to have been crushed into an unrecognizable form. But the stars blinked at him owlishly from the distance, the rocks nearer at hand swirling lazily, and the planet behind him looming larger every passing moment.
That had to be a dream. This weird cosmos, this place the called Beyond, could only exist in his imagination. How in the Chasm would he ever explain what he’d witnessed here?
“Where’s the way out, Alb?” Riven asked.
“The rocks,” Alb said. They didn’t sound happy to be telling Riven how to leave them. “They have Gates that will take you to your world. But you haven’t answered anything for me.”
“You haven’t asked.”
“I wasn’t given the opportunity to do so. But now I will take it. What do you want, Riven Morell?”
The question, and the use of his name, startled Riven. He didn’t recall telling Alb anything about himself. “If you can tell my name, can’t you tell everything else about me?”
“No. Most of you mortals wear your name on the very surface of your being, and it is to pick apart from everything else. It gets much murkier the deeper you go in.”
Riven blinked. Alb was basically admitting he could read minds and peer into souls. It wasn’t a nice feeling to be pulled apart, dissected like a lab rat, and investigated. Damn it, he was still alive wasn’t he? “I want my family to be safe. I want them to be happy. I want to bring down that bastard Orbray before he calls down a Scion—and I imagine he’s calling down Solvane.”
It was strange to call a Scion by Her name. These divine beings, the ones so venerated and worshipped, the ones he had prayed to, couldn’t simply be happy with his use of Her name. Not very respectful. Not proper at all.
“And how does all that help you?” Alb asked. “What will happen to you, what will you gain personally if your family is safe and Orbray is defeated? What will become of you afterwards?”
“Afterwards?”
“Yes. I see so often mortals asking for something they can see, for something within their limited field of view. For something so… limiting. There is never any thought of what next. It is as though achieving this one thing will bring everlasting happiness and contentment, that this sole dream is all their lives need to accomplish.” Alb paused, as if realizing they were starting to rant. “So I ask you, Riven Morell, what will come afterwards?”
Riven didn’t need to think on it long. With all that had been happening, he’d hardly paid any attention to what he wanted to do. He’d paid no heed to what might become of him after this was all over. Despite that, he found the answer at the tip of his tongue anyway. “The Deathless. I want this madness to stop. This fighting, this recklessness, this insanity. And I know there has to be a peaceful resolution to this, and I will find it.”
Alb was silent at that. The abyss swirled, the dark eye unblinking as it stared up into the nebula that the Scion occupied. “Are you satisfied with his answer, Solvane?”
The Scion said nothing, though the stars on Her seemed to flash in a different way than before. Unless Riven was imagining things.
“I didn’t realize I was being interviewed,” Riven said.
“You’re free to leave now. Take the closest rock—Malachite Cell—and use your Essence when you jump in. Otherwise, you won’t be able to direct where you land.”
“I need to know more, though. Who are you in truth? Why are you being hunted? And—”
“You also don’t have the time to find out everything.”
Riven blanched. Viriya. She was still fighting, now probably trying to survive against two Firstmarkeds on her own again, just as she had done when she had left Providence Demesne. And Riven had stayed here, dawdling as he tried to figure out what in the Chasm was going on.
“Which one is Malachite Cell?” he asked.
“Haven’t you ever seen Malachite?”
Riven found a floating rock that resembled Viriya’s Essence, except that it wasn’t glowing. He wasn’t sure how he was going to move in this void but Alb had said to use his Essence. Well, it wasn’t like he had a better idea. He focused, letting the pressure within him push the golden lines out.
He was on the Malachite rock, standing at the edge of a greenish-blue pool. Riven blinked. He hadn’t felt himself move. “How did I just…?”
“This is the Beyond.” Alb’s abyss was somewhere to his left now, though still far below him. “Your Essence—everyone’s Essence—is far stronger here, capable of far more. Use the pool if you wish to leave.”
The power of the Beyond. Riven shook his head. He didn’t have time to worry about any of that. Viriya was waiting.
Taking in a deep breath and weaving his golden armour over himself, Riven jumped into the pool.