The alleyway of Wyrmsreach swallowed Riven whole as he stumbled through it, the weight of his injuries bearing down on him with each dragging step. His chest heaved with labored breaths, and his legs felt like lead, the adrenaline finally starting to wear off. He wanted to collapse, to just let the darkened world consume him. But he couldn't. Not yet. Not when the pain from the seastone wound on his shoulder felt like it was burning through him.
He grunted as his knees buckled and his body hit the wet, grimy ground.
"Hello old friend."
The cold, damp slums of Wyrmsreach welcomed him. He felt the muck stick to his clothes, the weight of the filth dragging him down further, but it didn't matter. It was familiar. It was his only escape.
And then, Slade appeared.
"Still alive, huh? Surprised you haven't gotten yourself killed yet. Then again, you're harder to put down than a cockroach," Slade said with that rough, half smiling tone of his.
Riven could barely lift his head, his breath ragged. "Not... today... apparently," he rasped out, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. He coughed, and a small streak of blood mixed with the dirt on his lips. "Definitely not dead... yet. But hey, who needs organs anyway? They just slow you down."
Slade raised an eyebrow but didn't smile. He crouched beside Riven, assessing the damage. "You're in worse shape than a bug after a boot to the face. And that seastone... you sure that isn't just a personal vendetta against your whole being a Lunarian vibe? Which by the way is great little secret you kept."
Riven weakly shrugged. "If I had a dollar for every time something tried to kill me, I'd be a billionaire by now. But here we are. Me, still alive. Seastone impaled and flame less. Pretty impressive, right?"
Slade's hands worked quickly, wrapping bandages around Riven's shoulder. "I don't know if impressive is the word I'd use. More like suicidal, maybe."
Riven grinned through the pain, even if his bloodied teeth made him look like a rabid animal. "Yeah, well. I like living dangerously. If I don't make it... remind me to leave you my mixtape. It's… legendary."
Slade didn't laugh, but there was a flicker in his eyes, something between amusement and concern. "You're lucky I'm here. Don't get used to it. I don't do favors for free."
Riven grunted, his mind a fog of dizziness. "Free? Who said anything about free? You're not that nice. Not that you need to be. Just get me out of here... 'cause I gotta say, this whole 'dying in a filthy alley' thing isn't my vibe."
Slade tightened the bandages and checked for any other serious injuries. "Get a grip. You're not dying yet. But you won't last much longer without those flames of yours. Seastone messes with your insides like a wrecking ball on a house of cards."
Riven winced as another pulse of pain shot through his arm, his fingers twitching in frustration. "I can feel it. The flames... like they're begging to break out, but the damn seastone's got them on lockdown. Just a little more... c'mon. I need to heat things up, ya know? Otherwise I might just become part of the slum."
Slade raised his hand, shaking his head. "Don't do anything stupid. Just rest."
Riven shook his head, eyes flickering. "Oh, rest? Yeah, no. Can't afford it. Got people hunting me, remember?" He attempted to stand, but his legs wobbled under him.
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The massive stone doors of Lord Silas Vortan's study creaked open as Marella Graves entered, her footsteps quiet against the cold marble floor. The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from a fire crackling in the hearth. Vortan sat at his desk, the flickering shadows giving him an almost ethereal presence, like he was more phantom than man.
He didn't look up immediately. The silence between them stretched.
Marella stood tall, her posture straight, waiting. Vortan's silence never meant anything good.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke. "What news?"
Marella's jaw tightened, her eyes cold as she reported. "The boy, Lord Vortan, is more dangerous than we anticipated. His power... it's unlike anything I've encountered. He calls it 'celestial flame,' but it feels like something older, something deeper. It's wild, erratic, and connected to something far beyond just Lunarian fire. It's growing."
Vortan's sharp gaze finally locked with hers, the air thick with tension. "A Lunarian... but not just any Lunarian?"
Marella's voice was careful, measured. "No. He's not the same as the others. His flame is tied to something celestial. I don't know how, but I saw it firsthand.
Vortan's eyes narrowed. "And you didn't stop him?"
Marella clenched her fists at her sides. "I tried. I did. But he's unpredictable. The way his power surges, it's like fighting against a storm. Every time I think I've got him cornered, he shifts. The crypt... it's calling to him, and when it does, he becomes something else. I couldn't get the upper hand."
"Fascinating," Vortan said, his voice dark, intrigued. "And what of the crypt? Did you find any answers there?"
Marella paused, her eyes flickering as she remembered the ancient carvings, the energy that pulsed through the crypt. "The symbols... they're celestial. Tied to the sun, the stars. There's something about the crypt, something ancient. But I couldn't decipher it all. It's more than just a resting place. It's a key."
Vortan leaned forward, his eyes alight with something almost akin to hunger. "A key? To what?"
"I believe to him. The boy," Marella said, her tone steely. "It's as if the crypt is calling to him. Or perhaps it's already chosen him."
Vortan's lips curled into a cold smile. "Then we need to make sure he doesn't realize the truth. We can't let him unlock whatever it is inside him, not without us controlling it."
Marella's expression softened for a brief moment. "And if he does?"
Vortan's smile widened, cruel and calculated. "Then we'll make sure he understands who holds the true power here."
Marella's heart sank slightly, but her face remained as impassive as ever. "Understood, my lord."
As she turned to leave, she paused, looking back over her shoulder at Vortan. "One more thing, my lord. He's not just a threat... he's a symbol. If he can get control of whatever's inside him, he could be a rallying point for the people. He could unite the lawless, make them think they have a chance at something better."
Vortan's fingers drummed against the desk, his gaze piercing. "And if he does?"
"If he does, we may have a revolution on our hands."
Vortan's expression darkened. "Then we crush him before he ever gets the chance."
Marella left without another word, the weight of the conversation hanging heavy in the air. Outside the study, she leaned against the wall for a moment, her hand resting against her temple. The storm was far from over, and she wasn't sure who would survive it.