The city of Valdareth never slept. It only breathed ash.
Riven Thorne moved like a shadow through the winding alleys of the Gutter District. His Soulbrand pulsed beneath his skin — a violet and silver flame only he could see. The power in his chest screamed for release, for carnage. But he knew to survive, he had to be patient.
Behind him, the Sanctum's bells tolled a warning. Guards flooded the streets, bloodhounds sniffing for the heretic who should have died.
He slipped past the hovels and broken merchants, eyes sharp as a hawk's. Every step was a dance with death.
"You don't belong here," a voice hissed from the darkness.
Riven stopped. A figure stepped forward—masked, cloaked, with eyes that gleamed like fractured glass.
"You're Riven Thorne," the figure said. "The boy who survived the Trial."
Riven narrowed his eyes. "Who wants to know?"
The figure bowed slightly. "We are the Hollow Mask. Broken mages cast out from the Sanctum. We survive because we embrace the void inside us."
Riven's heart beat faster. Broken mages? Like me.
"We've been watching," the Hollow Mask said. "You carry the Madness Echo. You are no longer just a boy. You are a weapon."
Riven clenched his fists. "If I'm a weapon, I need to know how to use it."
The Hollow Mask smiled beneath his mask. "Then follow me."
They led Riven through twisting tunnels beneath the city, into a hidden sanctum lit by eerie blue flames. Here, the air shimmered with restless magic.
"You must learn to control the Madness Echo," the Mask said. "It is a double-edged blade. It reflects pain and fear, but if it consumes you, madness will devour your soul."
Riven closed his eyes, reaching into the pulse inside him. The voices of the other children—whispers, cries, memories—swirled like a storm.
Suddenly, the ground trembled.
The doors burst open.
A squad of Bloodhound Knights stormed in, armor shining like cursed steel, their faces hidden beneath snarling beast masks.
Riven tensed. The first test.
The leader snarled, "Riven Thorne, heretic. Surrender or die."
Riven's lips curled. "I don't surrender."
He stepped forward.
No spells. No weapons.
Just the raw, brutal force of the Madness Echo.
The room erupted.
Pain exploded in the knights' minds—visions of their darkest fears, memories twisted into nightmares. One by one, they clutched their heads, staggering like broken puppets.
Riven's eyes burned violet as the Madness Echo flared.
The leader charged, steel raised.
Riven caught the blade with his bare hand. Flesh tore, but the pain twisted back into the attacker's mind. The knight screamed, dropping the sword, collapsing to the floor.
Riven moved through them like a storm, a shadow fed by madness and fury.
When the last knight fell, silence filled the chamber.
The Hollow Mask nodded approvingly. "You are no longer weak."
Outside, the city burned brighter beneath twin moons.
But inside Riven, a darker fire was just beginning.