Light.
The first thing Riven felt when his eyes opened was how bright the room was. His vision blurred at the edges, his pupils tightening just as a thought flashing unbidden through his head:
'What… where hell am I?'
Voices drifted across the air around him. The voices were steady and conversational but distant from him by a few feet of he were to guess. He turned his head toward them, breath catching when his eyes adjusted.
His eyes widened.
'I'm… I'm back?'
Standing in the room was Instructor Arven, his arms crossed with a stoic look on his face. Beside him stood someone Riven didn't recognize, a boy perhaps a year or two older, golden blond hair tied back, eyes closed, his frame is draped in the long white coat of Federation attire. The boy moved his head slightly, tilting toward Riven as if he had sensed him.
"Well, well," the boy said smoothly, a grin in his voice. "Look who decided to wake up."
Arven turned as well, his gaze falling on Riven with a flat, unreadable stare.
Riven tried to push himself upright in a sudden motion only to freeze. His eyes widened at the peculiarity of the mundane motion. It wasn't resistance that stopped him, It was actually the opposite.
He moved with ease. His body felt light, almost weightless, as though shackles he hadn't even known existed were gone. And stranger still, he could partially feel the room around him, air currents brushing against his skin, the faint thrum of distant machinery in the walls, the warmth of living presences. A clarity that had never been there before.
Arven's voice broke the silence. "So. You've noticed it."
Riven looked down at his hands, flexing them. Strength pulsed through his fingers. Tugging the blanket off his body, he saw how taut and defined his frame had become even under his loose shirt. He had always been fit with all those years of brutal training, over half a decade of trying to catch up to the awakened kids had left him honed like steel but this was something else. His body felt sharpened, alive in ways he couldn't explain.
"What's… going on?" Riven asked, voice low.
Arven folded his arms. His tone was calm, matter-of-fact.
"Isn't it obvious? You've finally awakened."
The words hit like a hammer. Riven stared, mouth opening, but nothing came out. He looked like a fish gasping for air.
The blond boy chuckled. "Ha! Look at him, Arven. He does look like a fish."
Arven sighed, exasperated. "Stop making fun of him, March."
March only grinned wider.
Riven blinked. His breath caught. "Wait… March? As in March Alaris of the Twilight?"
The boy cracked open one brilliant eye, the grin never leaving his face. "Hmm. So you've heard of me, then."
Arven muttered under his breath, "Here we go…"
March sauntered closer, every step purposely loose yet deliberate. Riven tensed. The stories he'd heard about this teen. How he was and still is the strongest cadet in a decade, the first to ascend past the sub-tiers in record time. Where most clawed from Minor to True to finally Ascended, March had done so almost impossibly fast, his trail marked by the corpses of Deviants. They had named him Twilight for it, the dusk before death.
Riven swallowed hard but forced his face to remain calm, refusing to show the nerves rippling under his skin.
March leaned in, his grin remained playful, almost mocking even. "Want an autograph?" he asked in a sing-song tone. He spread his arms dramatically. "To gaze upon me in person is a blessing from the heavens themselves. Truly, you should feel honored, Riven. Not everyone gets to bask in my magnificence."
Before Riven could respond, Arven cut in flatly: "Stop making a fool of yourself." And with one swift motion, he 'spartan-kicked' March across the room.
Riven's jaw dropped. He blinked at the scene, dumbfounded. 'This… this is the Twilight March?'
Arven brushed the dust from his hands and turned back to Riven, face firm.
"Do you remember what happened?"
Riven blinked. "What do you mean?"
"The mine," Arven said. His gaze sharpened. "When it collapsed, how did you survive and how did you manage to awaken?"
The question froze him. Images flashed like lightning behind his eyes, the grotesque Spawn's eyeless face, the jagged limbs of the bastard, the wretch that almost took his head of twice, the crushing presence of an Aberrant. And then—
That thing.
He stiffened.
"I… don't remember anything," Riven said finally. He met Arven's gaze, forcing his tone steady. "All I remember is falling. Getting injured so badly I could hardly move. Then… blacking out. Next thing I know, I'm here."
The room fell silent. Arven's eyes bored into him, unreadable. But Riven didn't look away.
At last, Arven exhaled. "Fine. Then get some rest for now." He turned, motioning March who had picked himself up, dusting his coat toward the door. "You missed the first trial exam. You'll need to work double for the other two."
As they left, March grumbled, "What a killjoy." He threw a lazy wave over his shoulder. "Bye for now, Riven. I do hope we meet again soon." He cracked one eye open with a smile. "I'll be watching." The door shut behind them.
In the hallway, March's playful grin faded as he walked beside Arven.
"He lied," he said simply. "Or at least… he's not telling the whole truth."
Arven didn't reply. He just walked, his silence answer enough.
March sighed, hands behind his head as he followed. "Figures."
---
Back in the room, Riven stood slowly. His shirt fell from his shoulders, baring the lines of his newly honed body. He stared down at his chest, fingers tracing where his heart beat. Memory clawed back in a whisper.
That thing, Its words, like fire carved into him:
'You have done well, child. To endure. To crawl this far. Now… awaken.'
Riven's heart thudded hard, once, before calming again. His breath hitched as another memory followed:
'He is here… in the broken pieces of that which came first… fragmented by the hands of the First Beings themselves. The madness reclaims the chaos. With each death, it gathers itself, shard by shard. For death is not its finality… it is the key to the undoing. It is its breath.'
His chest tightened. He forced a slow breath, steadying himself.
"…I'll deal with that later," he muttered. Right now, he had to think about the exams.
The door creaked open again.
Two familiar faces stepped in. Lynn and Kevan, smiles breaking across their features. Relief lit their eyes as they looked at him.
"Riven!" Lynn gasped with a warm voice.
Kevan grinned wide. "Took you long enough, mate."
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