The air screamed from the pressure, scattering the heavy silence that had preceded the storm.
Liura stood with her back to a cracked boulder, trapped between two massive Zirath creatures.
One crawled like a spider, its four glowing red eyes burning with menace. The other stood upright—slender-bodied, with unnaturally long arms ending in twisted claws. Its screech sounded like metal being shredded by teeth.
She raised her chin, her bluish-black hair fluttering under the surge of energies. Her blue eyes gleamed with defiance.
Suddenly—
"LIURAAAAAA!"
Riven's voice pierced the darkness. He leapt from his position toward her, but a third Zirath lunged into his path, forcing him to fall back.
Liura didn't look. Her grip tightened around her weapon. Her lips moved slowly:
"Selyvan…"
The air erupted around her in a burst of red fire. A bloody aura ignited around her body, and she shot forward like an arrow—striking the first Zirath directly in the face, sending it tumbling like a giant stone.
The second creature lunged over her, but she anticipated the move—twisting mid-air and casting a second spell:
"Dematra!"
A blazing red sword burst from her hand, severing one of its limbs with a burning gash. The shadow beast screamed and staggered back, but it did not fall.
Elsewhere…
Kyle descended like a meteorite:
"Gravida!"
The earth trembled. A massive stone pillar erupted from beneath the third Zirath, slamming it into the cliffside.
Riven, narrowly avoiding a blow that could've split his chest, raised his hand with force:
"Noris Nova!"
A white fire beam shot from his fist, striking the Zirath cornering Liura. Its body erupted—
but began rebuilding itself.
Liura's eyebrow arched in shock, watching the creature return from death as if untouched.
"What are these…? These Zirath…"
A voice came from the hilltop—calm, cold. Ostar stood watching, arms crossed, his black cloak playing with the wind.
"Try to run… if you can."
No one moved.
Ostar's voice held too much confidence… as if escape was no longer an option.
Then suddenly—
A dark roar shook the battlefield.
It didn't come from the four Zirath.
It came from the earth itself.
Ostar's palm moved slowly, his fingers swirling the air like silent music.
He spoke, low and ominous:
"Velan Moras… Terras Zirath."
As his words ended, fissures cracked open beneath the heroes' feet.
From them…
Shadowy arms emerged—snaking outward, coiling, striking the rocks around them.
The four Ziraths remained locked in battle, but the terrain was now alive with limbs moving on their own, carrying a death-like force.
Kyle slammed his hand into the ground, screaming:
"Verahil!"
An invisible barrier rose around them, pausing the shadow arms… but his face turned pale.
"This barrier won't hold long!" he cried, gripping his trembling hand.
Liura's eyes darted rapidly between the creatures.
Through the chaos… the red spells… the flying shadows…
She noticed something strange.
Every Zirath… had a single eye on the left side.
Unlike the rest of their bodies—
It wasn't darkness.
It was glass.
Shiny, fixed… intelligent.
She screamed above the crashing sounds:
"They all have a glass eye on the left side!"
Kyle turned, stunned:
"What?"
Liura leapt out of the barrier a second before its collapse:
"Target it! Hit the eye!"
Riven raised his head and shouted:
"You heard her! Strike the left eye!"
The battle shifted.
Kyle lunged at the nearest Zirath. Beneath his feet, a sharp rock spear rose—this time aimed precisely.
It hit the glass eye.
The result?
The Zirath exploded…
No regeneration.
"Huh?!" Riven gasped, then grinned faintly.
"That's it. Their weakness."
He lifted his hand again:
"Noris Nova!"
This time, the white beam hit the second Zirath's left eye.
Another explosion…
The creature vanished. Like it never existed.
Liura smiled fiercely.
"Time for purification."
The second creature was gone. The scent of shadow evaporated.
Two remained—
but the heroes now burned with confidence.
Atop the hill, Ostar remained silent for a moment.
Then… he laughed.
A short, low laugh… toxic in tone.
"Wow… seems I underestimated you all."
He lowered his hand, eyes narrowing to embers, his voice thick with a promise of death:
"But no matter…"
He raised his right hand high.
Dark energy gathered around him, dancing like burning shadows.
Then, in a steady voice:
"I'll kill you myself."
He stepped forward.
Once…
Then again.
And just as his foot struck the earth—
The sound came.
Feminine. Calm. Yet it slices through the air like a blade.
"Ostar…"
He froze.
The Zirath vanished instantly around him, as if the voice itself commanded their silence.
From the forest's edge, a veiled woman appeared. Her face hidden beneath a dark shawl, revealing only piercing eyes.
Her voice repeated—with an unyielding coldness that left no room for debate:
"The master… awaits."
"The master… awaits."
Ostar went quiet for a moment, then exhaled slowly, shifting only his eyes toward the woman.
He replied with mocking disdain:
"Ugh… What boring assassins you all are. Always ruining the fun."
Then he turned to the three heroes. His expression dripped with ice and contempt:
"I was just about to savor your deaths."
The woman stepped forward just once, her voice low but firm:
"Enough, Ostar."
He sighed again, raising his hand lazily.
A shadow gate opened behind him.
But before vanishing, he held Liura's gaze and whispered:
"Next time… I'll rip those red blasts from your eyes before your hands."
He stepped through the gate.
The mysterious woman followed.
And they disappeared into shadows that left no trace.
Silence fell.
As though everything had stopped breathing after Ostar's departure.
All that remained was ash… and traces of dark energy still evaporating in the air.
A breeze passed through—carrying a faint moan.
Or perhaps… it wasn't from the wind.
Kyle stood quietly, staring at the ground where one of the Zirath had tried to regenerate just moments ago.
"He retreated…" he said, still in disbelief.
Liura took a deep breath, wiped the sweat from her brow, and gazed toward the horizon where Ostar had vanished.
"And he's only one of them…" she murmured.
Then suddenly turned to Riven:
"Are you okay?"
He nodded, trying to sound reassuring:
"Yeah, I'm fine."
But Kyle's eyes narrowed.
Two quick steps brought him closer:
"Your arm."
Riven glanced at his left shoulder, as if his body had hidden the pain until now.
Then his face darkened.
"Ah…"
A long, searing gash ran down his arm—like the trace of a burning claw.
The skin around it was cracked and unnaturally dark.
Liura's eyes widened:
"Riven… your hand?"
He smiled again—but this time, it was strained:
"I didn't even feel it… not until everything ended."
Kyle approached, placing his hand gently over the wound.
He whispered a healing incantation with closed eyes… but nothing happened.
The magic didn't work.
His tone grew serious:
"This isn't a normal injury. It's either Zirath magic—or something from Ostar himself."
A heavy silence pressed over them.
They stared at Riven's shoulder, quiet but overwhelmed.
Kyle pulled out a piece of cloth from his satchel, wrapping the wound with care—though his concern showed plainly on his face.
"We can't leave this untreated… It needs purification, or at least specialized care."
But Riven cut in—his voice sharp despite the pain:
"We don't have time for that now."
He turned to Kyle and Liura, eyes glowing with unwavering resolve:
"What happened just now proves one thing—
The Izarim… have truly begun to move."
Liura folded her arms, gazing at the dissolving shadows around them:
"And if Ostar alone could do all this…"
Kyle finished her thought quietly:
"Then imagine… what all five together might unleash."
Riven stood tall, ignoring the agony gnawing at his shoulder.
He spoke firmly:
"Rest now would mean giving them more time to spread the Zirath…
We can't let that happen."
Liura raised her head, eyes fixed on the western horizon, where dark clouds gathered above the sea:
"Our next destination… the western coast. The dome of Iskaril, right?"
Kyle nodded firmly:
"Yes."
Then added:
"But first… we pass through Kalvera City. We might find a healer—or someone who can decipher that wound."
The three exchanged glances.
Their wounds hadn't healed, and their breath was still heavy—
but their eyes burned with unrelenting determination.
Liura raised her fist, glowing with red light like blood:
"We finish what we started…
and we won't let them outrun us."
Hours passed…
The journey wasn't easy.
The road to Kalvera was swept by sea-charged winds, the stone path stretching farther than it should.
Fatigue crept into their bodies, yet it was silence that filled the road.
Each of them was lost in thought… in the images that haunted them from mere hours ago.
As the towering walls of Kalvera began to rise on the horizon, a brief sigh of relief crossed their faces—though it was fleeting.
Leora looked at the city gate and whispered:
"Do we go to him directly?"
Kyle answered without hesitation:
"Yes… Harvis. He might be the only one who knows anything about this kind of wound."
Riven walked behind them, clutching his injured shoulder.
Despite the pain, he said nothing.
They entered the city.
Kalvera was just as they had left it—loud, but cautious… a breath of danger lurking beneath its markets and alleyways.
They took the side streets, heading to the old quarter, where the reclusive Harvis lived—in a hidden hut far from prying eyes. They said he spoke to ravens… and knew what was never spoken aloud.
At last, they arrived at a wooden door, etched with symbols in an ancient tongue.
Leora knocked three times.
Moments passed…
Then the door creaked open.
A sharp-featured old man stood there, his face carved like aged oak, and a single eye the color of storm ash studied them.
"Welcome…"
he rasped, examining them with that one piercing eye.
"I knew you were coming."
The door opened fully, and the scent of dried herbs mixed with a soft fire burning in the clay hearth flowed out.
Harvis stood silently at the threshold, unblinking—as if reading something invisible.
Before he could speak, Leora took a step forward, her voice choked with urgency:
"Please… help Riven!"
The old man turned to Riven, then slowly approached the dirty cloth wrapped around his shoulder.
Without touching it, he raised a trembling hand and pointed at the wound:
"Struck by a regenerative Shadow claw… this is no ordinary wound."
Kyle spoke immediately:
"I tried using Verahil… but it didn't work."
Harvis shook his head slowly and turned away.
"Come in… This kind of injury isn't healed with strength… but with knowledge."
The three entered the hut.
It was dim, lit only by a small fire in the center. Shelves lined the walls, packed with bottles, animal skulls, faded maps, and feathers hanging from silver threads.
Harvis sat before the fire and gestured for Riven to sit across from him.
"Come closer… Let me see the depth of the wound."
Riven sat quietly, unwrapping his shoulder.
The injury was strange—less a cut, more like something had slipped inside him. A faint gray aura pulsed from the center, unnatural… corrupted.
Harvis stared at it for a long moment.
"This isn't just residue from the Zireth… It's a thread of Ostar's own energy."
Kyle froze.
"What does that mean?"
Harvis replied in a tone veiled in shadow:
"It means this wound… could become a gateway, if left untouched."
Leora's brow furrowed.
"A gateway? To what?"
He turned his eye to her.
"A door the shadows could pass through… into him."
Silence fell like a stone.
Kyle's mouth moved, but no sound came—his mind trying to reject what he now understood.
"A… door?"
Riven finally whispered, his voice distant, hollow.
"You mean… they could enter me?"
Harvis didn't answer right away.
His gaze drifted to the fire, and when he spoke, it was deeper than before:
"If the wound remains… the shadows will not kill you. They'll inhabit you."
Leora stepped back, her voice shaken with disbelief and fear:
"That's impossible…! It was just a scratch…!"
The old man looked at her.
"It's not the cut that kills… but what's planted inside it."
Kyle murmured to himself:
"So if one of us is wounded… we become a passage for them?"
Harvis nodded:
"And it wasn't by chance."
Only the cracking fire and Riven's uneven breathing broke the silence.
Leora glanced at Riven, then Kyle. Her voice trembled—but it was sharp:
"What do we do then?"
But—
Riven froze.
His hands shook. His injured shoulder began to throb… like a second heartbeat awakening inside him.
And then—
He raised his head.
His once-calm eyes flickered with dancing shadows—light at first, but growing stronger.
Leora gasped:
"R… Riven?"
No answer.
Kyle rushed toward him, but Riven raised his other hand suddenly and struck the air—
A flicker of fire burst toward the wall.
Harvis's eyes widened. He stood abruptly, his voice firm:
"Stop! Don't come closer!"
He whispered as if speaking to something unseen:
"It's begun… the shadow is trying to enter."
Riven's breathing grew erratic. His body trembled violently.
Then he spoke—not in his voice, but a hollow echo, as if a thousand mouths whispered from within:
"It's open… it's open…"
Leora stepped forward, eyes wide with fury and fear:
"Get out of his head!!"
But Riven looked at her—
His gaze empty… foreign. A flash of gray danced in his eyes.
"Leora… step ba—"
His voice cut off.
In its place, a low, beast-like growl emerged.
And then—
Without warning—
Riven lunged at her.
His body surged forward like an arrow, his eyes glowing with that gray infernal light. His fist burned with a dark, fiery energy… a mix of his magic—and something else.
"Leora!!" Kyle shouted.
But Leora didn't move.
Time slowed.
She looked into his eyes as she stepped back—she didn't see Riven.
She saw something else.
A creature struggling within.
She saw him fighting, screaming, tearing at his chains… but something darker was in control.
He raised his hand to strike—
But before his blow landed, she raised her hand and shouted:
"Verahil!"
A faint magical barrier surged up between them.
Riven was thrown backward, as if his soul collided with itself.
He crashed against the wall, writhing in pain.
Harvis rushed to him and pulled out another gray crystal, placing it on Riven's forehead:
"Hold on, boy… Don't let them take you!"
But…
It was too late.
Before the crystal could finish its work—
Riven struck him.
With a single touch, he threw Harvis across the room. The old man slammed into the wooden wall with a grunt.
At that moment…
The air split open.
A blast of dark energy erupted before them.
A portal tore through the fabric of space, right in the heart of the hut.
Wind howled inward. The air echoed with a soundless laughter.
And from the portal—
Ostar stepped out.
Unchanged.
His long cloak, golden hair tied back, the black patch over one eye, and that ever-mocking grin.
Beside him…
A girl.
Her pink hair was tightly bound, her eyes glowing with cold precision. Beautiful—yet inhuman.
Ostar stepped forward and smiled:
"Ah… I didn't expect the threads to work this quickly."
He looked at Riven, who was slowly standing, eyes lifeless.
"Come, boy…"
he whispered gently, like waking a sleeper.
And Riven moved.
Yes.
One step.
Then another.
His gray eyes focused on nothing.
His face… blank.
Erased.
Leora screamed:
"Riven! Stop!!"
He didn't react.
Kyle lunged, hand reaching for him—
But the pink-haired girl raised a single finger.
Without a word, a silent spell struck Kyle—
Throwing him across the room like a lifeless doll.
Leora ran forward—but Ostar turned, his smile unwavering:
"Last time… I almost killed you. Next time? I won't miss."
Then he turned to Riven:
"To the Black Dome, little one…"
He stepped into the portal.
Riven followed… then the girl.
Leora screamed:
"NOOO! RIVEN!!"
And the shadows closed.
Light vanished.
"No… no… Riven!"
Her voice cracked, breathless and wet with tears.
It echoed in the empty hut.
She rushed to where he vanished and reached out—
But there was nothing.
The air was still.
The silence crushed her chest like stone.
She stood in the middle of the room, eyes locked on nothing.
The wall. The floor. The void.
Her trembling blue eyes glimmered with a shattered light.
"Riven…"
She whispered his name, as if calling across dimensions.
But no answer came.
Her body shook.
Her knees gave out, and she collapsed to the floor, hands over her face.
"What do I do…?"
She said it again. And again.
As if begging the void for a way—any way—to bring him back.
"Riven… come back… please…"
But hope, in that moment, was fainter than breath.
All she could hear was her own shaky breathing… and his name, echoing in her soul.
Riven…
Despair's shadows crept toward her, threatening to drag her into the same abyss that swallowed him.
But—
A firm, steady hand rested on her shoulder.
She flinched, then turned.
Kyle.
He stood behind her, battle-worn and exhausted—but not defeated.
His eyes, despite everything, were steady.
He sat beside her in silence, then said softly, yet with power:
"We'll bring him back."
It wasn't a plea.
It was a promise.
Leora looked at him, her eyes full of tears. But through the pain… a faint spark of light returned to her gaze.
She whispered:
"But they took him…"
He answered without pause:
"Then we'll take him back."
And added:
"Even if it means doing the impossible…"
Leora looked at him…
Then she remembered.
That distant day, in the depths of the training forest…
The sun setting behind the trees, painting the world gold.
She sat on a rock, panting, sweat dripping.
Master Eliora shouting from afar:
"Where's your strength? No rest until you master the technique!"
But she muttered:
"I can't… everything hurts. My feet, my arms… even breathing hurts."
Riven came up beside her, holding his wooden staff, raising an eyebrow with a mischievous grin:
"If you keep sitting there… I'll beat you! I'll fly past and leave you in the dust!"
She sighed and said:
"Shut up, idiot… I'm seriously tired."
He laughed. But then he went quiet.
He looked at the sky, then said softly:
"Listen, Leora…"
"No matter what happens—don't give up. Ever.
I'll always support you.
I'm always here."
Then he turned to her, his eyes warm with light…
And smiled—a shy, honest smile.
A blush crept across his face.
Her cheeks warmed too. She looked away and mumbled:
"O-of course I won't give up."
And in their laughter… the world felt lighter.
The vision faded.
Riven's laughter drifted away.
The present returned… cold and heavy.
But her heart… had changed.
She raised her head slowly, eyes still glistening.
She whispered:
"That's right…"
She placed a hand over her chest, where the pain had been.
"I told him… I wouldn't give up.
I promised him."
She looked at Kyle, who watched her quietly—
As if he'd felt everything she just relived.
A soft smile formed on her face…
A mix of sorrow, gratitude, and quiet courage.
She said gently:
"Thank you, Kyle…
Thank you for reminding me."
He nodded, his voice steady:
"What we started… we finish.
We'll get him back.
And we'll end them."
Before she could respond—
A rough voice cut through the silence:
"There's still hope."
Leora froze and turned quickly.
Harvis stood behind them, leaning on a wooden cane, pale… but with a fire in his eyes.
The look of someone who had seen too much—and survived it.
He said deeply:
"But not the way you wish…"
He stepped forward, eyes fixed on the fire.
"You won't find his body. You won't retrieve him with spells or blades.
If you truly want to save him…
You must go where no one can follow."
Kyle murmured:
"You mean…?"
Harvis nodded:
"His soul.
If you want Riven back…
You must reach his soul—before it's completely devoured."
Leora's voice shook:
"How?! How do we reach his soul?!"
Harvis looked at her, then cast his gaze to the ground… searching within himself.
He finally said, barely audible:
"I don't know."
The silence returned, heavy.
But he soon raised his eyes again, something strange in his expression—
A mix of warning… and faith.
"But you'll know…
When you stand before Riven."
Kyle whispered:
"Before him…?"
Harvis nodded again:
"His soul still lingers—caught between light and shadow.
If you can reach him there…
You might save him… before the gate closes forever."
Leora stared into the distance, as if seeing his shadow on the horizon.
She whispered:
"Then I won't waste another second."