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Secrets And Shadows
The days following the Trial of Verity passed in a haze for Liora. Though the halls of Warborn Academy returned to their normal rhythm, it was as though everything had shifted—somehow darker, more uncertain. Whispers trailed her like a storm cloud, and every student who passed by now gave her a wide berth, eyes filled with awe or fear.
She could feel it in the air.
The weight of secrets. The burden of power.
And through it all, Riven Thornhart watched.
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It was late afternoon when Liora found herself walking the academy's outer courtyard, the same place where the Mockery Games had been held just days ago. The sun was low, casting long shadows across the stone and grass, turning everything into an illusion. Behind her, she heard the faint echo of footsteps—slow, deliberate.
"You should stop avoiding me."
Liora didn't turn around.
"Why?" she asked, her voice cool.
Riven's voice came again, closer now. "Because you're making this harder than it needs to be. You're too good at hiding."
At that, she did turn, meeting his gaze with steady eyes.
"I'm not hiding," she replied. "I'm just trying to survive."
He studied her for a moment, then shook his head. "You're lying to yourself."
She raised an eyebrow. "Am I?"
"You've already drawn attention, Vale. You think you can walk through this place with your past buried and not have it come back to haunt you?"
"I think I can," she said, her voice flat. "Because that's all I've ever done. Walked through places like this. Stayed quiet. Stayed invisible."
Riven's lips twisted into a half-smile, one that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I've never met anyone like you."
The words hung between them like a dare. He had a way of saying things that meant more than they appeared. There was always something lurking beneath his words—a challenge, a curiosity.
Liora took a step back, folding her arms. "And what exactly do you expect from me, Thornhart?"
He shrugged, his expression unreadable. "I expect you to stop running."
She didn't respond, but her heart quickened. It wasn't just the words—there was something else, something she couldn't quite grasp. He was peeling back her defenses. Slowly. Relentlessly.
She wanted to leave. To vanish back into the shadows where she belonged. But something—something about him—kept her rooted to the spot.
"What's your endgame, Riven?" she asked, her voice soft but pointed.
Riven looked at her with something like amusement. "My endgame?"
"Yes," she said, almost challengingly. "You've been following me, watching me. I know you're not doing it because you care. So what's the point?"
For a long moment, he said nothing, and then finally, he spoke, his voice low.
"You're dangerous, Liora," he said. "But more than that, you're... useful."
The words hit her like a slap.
Useful.
That was all she was to him?
Her heart twisted in her chest, but she masked it quickly, throwing up her usual wall of indifference. "And what are you planning to do with me, then? Use me? Control me?"
"No," Riven said quickly, his tone sharp. "I don't control people. I manipulate them. There's a difference."
Liora didn't know whether to laugh or to walk away. She wasn't sure which would make her feel safer.
"Manipulation is control, Thornhart," she said, taking a step back. "And I don't intend to be your pawn."
Riven's eyes darkened. "You don't get to make that choice, Vale. Not anymore."
Liora's breath caught. For a second, she thought he was going to step forward—corner her, maybe—but instead, he just watched her. Something in his eyes had shifted. Something colder. But then, just as quickly, it was gone.
She could feel the tension crackling between them. The heat of it.
Without another word, she turned and walked away, her footsteps quick and light. But she knew he was still watching her. She could feel his gaze on her back.
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Days passed in a blur of classes and lectures, but Liora couldn't shake the feeling that things were spiraling out of control. It wasn't just Riven anymore—there were other eyes on her. Suspicious ones. She could sense it, feel the weight of their stares wherever she went.
That evening, as she made her way to the library, she couldn't shake the sense that someone was following her. The feeling grew stronger as she passed the archways near the upper courtyard. It was a familiar chill—the kind she had learned to ignore over the years, but now it seemed to be chasing her.
A shadow flitted past the corner of her eye. She spun, but the courtyard was empty.
For a moment, she hesitated. Her fingers brushed the hidden sigil she wore beneath her cloak—a token of her bloodline, a curse she carried with her like a weight. She had never allowed it to define her, but it had always been a part of her. It would always be.
Her instincts told her to keep moving, but she couldn't ignore the feeling that she was being watched, studied. Carefully.
She didn't turn to the library.
Instead, she followed the winding paths around the back of the academy, toward the forbidden wing where the older archives were kept. If someone was watching her, she needed to know why.
She moved quietly through the darkened halls, avoiding the patrolling Wardens. The air here felt colder, as though the walls themselves were imbued with some kind of ancient magic. She passed by sealed doors, runes glowing faintly, and arrived at the heavy iron door that led to the deepest parts of the academy's secrets.
Without hesitation, she pressed her hand to the cold surface, muttering a small incantation under her breath. The door groaned open.
And there, standing in the middle of the room, was Riven.
His back was to her, but he knew she was there.
"You shouldn't be here," Liora said, her voice calm, though her heart was racing.
Riven didn't turn around. "Neither should you."
She took a step forward, eyes narrowing. "What are you looking for, Thornhart?"
Riven's voice was cold, but there was something beneath it—something uncertain. "The truth."
Liora swallowed, her throat dry. "You won't find it here."
"I already have," he said, turning to face her. "And now, you're a part of it."
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