The night was quiet in the outskirts of the city, but Elira's mind was loud.
She stood on the rooftop of a crumbling watchtower, the wind tugging at her flame-colored hair as the moonlight painted silver streaks across her face. The world below moved, unaware that she watched it like a ghost staring at the life they left behind.
Then came the memory—uninvited, vivid.
"You ever wonder what's outside the city?" Kael had once asked her, lying beside her on that very same rooftop, back when they were fifteen.
She remembered turning to him, brushing strands of wild hair from his eyes. "Mountains. Wind. Quiet. Things that aren't trying to kill us."
He laughed then—a real, careless laugh. He had that kind of smile that made people forget where they were, even if just for a second.
Back then, the world was smaller. She hadn't known what betrayal felt like. She hadn't been covered in blood and revenge. She hadn't felt the fire grow inside her soul.
A shiver pulled her from the memory. She clenched her fists.
Kael's betrayal hadn't just broken her trust. It had ripped a piece of her past away—burned it, like everything else.
"I'm not that girl anymore," she muttered.
Suddenly, a faint click echoed from below.
Elira dropped into a crouch and drew her gauntlet-blade silently. The roof door creaked open. A cloaked figure stepped out, unaware of the storm waiting above.
One breath.
Two.
She struck like lightning—gauntlet igniting mid-swing, flames coiling around her fist. The figure ducked, narrowly avoiding the impact as bricks exploded beside him.
"Easy!" the stranger called out. "I'm not your enemy!"
She didn't pause. "That's what the last liar said."
But before she could land the second blow, the moonlight caught his face.
A scar across the jaw. White strands in his short black hair.
It wasn't Kael. It was someone else from the past.
"Riven," she whispered, heart twisting.
The man who once trained with her and Kael… the one who vanished during the uprising.