3 NAMES WRITTEN IN ASH
They reached the edge of the drowned forest three days later.
The girl clung to his back, fever gone but silence heavy in her chest. She hadn't spoken since the ritual, since he said he forgot her name.
Because he had.
Not a trace of it remained in his mind. He remembered her face, her voice, her kindness—but not her name. Not even a sound.
And it ate at him.
The path ahead turned jagged. Stone peaks began to rise like the ribs of some buried giant, casting long shadows over the marshlands. He stopped, breathing hard. The Mark had gone quiet since Aekir's ritual, but it was not gone. Just waiting.
The girl slipped off his back, stumbled once, but caught herself.
We should rest, she whispered.
He nodded. They found shelter in a crumbled shrine half-swallowed by vines and mud.
As he lit a fire, she sat beside him, gaze fixed on the flickering flames.
Why haven't you asked me?
He paused.
Asked you what?
My name. You forgot it. But you never asked me to tell you again.
He stared into the fire.
Because I don't want to hear it unless I can remember it myself.
She looked at him—really looked.
You know that's not how souls work. Once it's gone... it's gone.
Then I'll earn it back another way.
A silence. Then:
You're an idiot.
He smiled faintly.
Yeah. I know.
The mountains were worse than the forest. Cold, thin air. Cliffs that crumbled beneath their feet. And creatures that watched from the fog.
Soul-warped things. Huskborn. Creatures who'd lost too much of their soul and become something else entirely. They didn't attack—not yet—but they followed. Waiting.
It was on the fourth night that he gave himself a name.
Riven,he said aloud.That's what I'll be.
She blinked.
Riven?
Because I'm broken. And because I refuse to stay that way.
She didn't smile, but she nodded.
It suits you.
Then tell me yours.
She hesitated.
Then:
Liora.
He nodded, whispering the name like a prayer he didn't want to forget.
They reached the first ruin two days later. Half-carved into the rock, it pulsed faintly with soul energy. A ward.
He stepped forward. The Mark on his back hissed, flared.
The stone gate lit up with runes, glowing in a deep red.
Only the marked may pass, a voice whispered. Not aloud, but in his bones.
I'll go, he said.Stay here.
Liora shook her head.
No. If you go, I go.
It could kill you.
And if you die, I'll be alone again. I'm not doing that twice.
He stared at her.
Then nodded.
The gate let them both through.
Inside the ruin was a grave.
Hundreds of names carved into the walls. All in different scripts. All in blood.
In the center, a skeleton wrapped in silver chains. And a voice that whispered from nowhere:
Why do you seek the First Mark?
Riven stepped forward.
To destroy it. Or to unmake the curse it carries.
The chains rattled. The bones turned. Empty sockets fixed on him.
You think yourself strong enough? You, who has already bartered your soul for time?
I'll pay again if I must.
The voice laughed.
You will. But not in coin. Not in years. The First Mark can only be reached by reliving your worst memory. The moment your soul broke.
He blinked.
Then nodded.
And the world shattered.
He was a child again.
The air smelled of burning cloth. Screams echoed through the halls.
Mother was hiding him behind the cupboard.
Don't move, she whispered. Don't make a sound.
Footsteps.
The door burst open.
No! Please! He's just a—
Steel. Blood. Silence.
Then — the cupboard door opened.
A man stood there, robed in black, the Mark glowing on his hand.
Found you,he whispered.You'll serve well.
Back in the ruin, Riven fell to his knees.
Breath ragged. Hands trembling.
I remember now.
Then enter,the voice said.
A new gate opened.
Behind it—darkness, and something pulsing within.
The First Mark.
Liora took his hand.
Whatever happens, I'm not leaving.
Even if I become something else?
Especially then.
They stepped through together.
And the darkness closed behind them.
To Be Continued...