The cavern still stank of blood and ash.
Riven leaned against the jagged wall, his chest heaving. His arm burned where the crimson cracks pulsed faintly beneath his skin, the hunger rattling behind its chain.
Seraphina sat a few feet away, her legs crossed, her crimson hair tumbling like fire over her shoulders. She looked untouched by the chaos, as though the swarm had been nothing more than a passing storm.
Her emerald eyes fixed on him, sharp and curious.
"You're trembling."
Riven didn't look at her. He steadied his breath, forcing the shaking from his hands.
"It's nothing."
Her smirk deepened. "It's the hunger, isn't it? You chain it well… but it's clawing at you even now."
He stayed silent.
Seraphina tilted her head, studying him like a puzzle she meant to savor. "Most would have given in already. That power isn't meant to be caged. It devours everything it touches — will, flesh, soul. Yet you sit there, teeth clenched, pretending you're in control."
Riven's cold eyes flicked to hers. "Pretending?"
Her smile sharpened. "For now."
Silence stretched, broken only by the faint drip of essence rivers against the stone.
Riven's mind wandered back to the vision — the shattered sky, the reflection of himself older, monstrous, divine. The whispers of colossi in the void.
He spoke quietly, almost to himself.
"The Gate showed me something."
Seraphina's brows arched. "Oh?"
"Fragments. Worlds. A… version of me. Different. Stronger. Wrong." His jaw tightened. "It said chain or be chained."
Seraphina's amusement flickered into something else — faint recognition, quickly hidden.
She leaned back, her voice low and velvety. "So it chose you. Interesting."
Riven's knife tightened in his grip. "What does that mean?"
Her lips curved into a knowing smile. "You'll find out — if you survive long enough. But hear this: the Gate never offers power without cost. Every chain you forge will cut into you. Every step will weigh heavier. And when the links break…"
She leaned closer, her voice a whisper.
"…you may not recognize yourself anymore."
The hunger surged, rattling its chain hard enough to make his chest ache. For a heartbeat, Riven thought the cracks on his arm glowed brighter, hungrier.
He pressed his hand against it, steady, unyielding.
"I'll hold it."
Seraphina laughed softly, her eyes gleaming with both mockery and approval.
"Spoken like a fool. Or a god."
The cavern trembled faintly, as though the Gate itself had been listening.
And Riven, exhausted but resolute, sat in the darkness — a man already walking the line between the two.
The cavern quaked.
Dust rained down from the jagged ceiling as the rivers of essence pulsed brighter, their glow quickening like a heartbeat. The ground beneath Riven's boots trembled, splitting in fresh cracks.
He pushed himself upright, knife in hand, his cold eyes sweeping the chamber.
Seraphina rose as well, her crimson hair shimmering faintly in the glow. She smiled — sharp, amused.
"Ah… it stirs again."
The stone at the far end of the cavern shuddered. A fissure tore open, spilling blinding crimson light. Mist billowed outward, heavy and thick, carrying the weight of something ancient.
Riven narrowed his gaze.
A passage had formed. Not stairs, not a door — but a jagged wound in the rock, sloping downward into darkness. The air that flowed from it was heavy, charged, almost alive.
The hunger in his veins surged violently.
It pressed against its chain, rattling hard enough to make his chest ache. His arm burned, the crimson cracks glowing brighter in the presence of the passage.
Riven gritted his teeth, forcing control.
Seraphina watched him closely, her emerald eyes gleaming with something between curiosity and satisfaction.
"The Gate is calling you," she said softly. "It wants to see how far you'll crawl before you break."
Riven's voice was flat, steady. "Then I'll crawl."
They approached the passage.
The mist thickened with each step, coiling around them like living chains. The air grew colder, sharper, every breath tasting of metal and ash.
The light behind them dimmed. The cavern faded.
Only the descent remained.
The ground shifted beneath his boots, sloping further until it became a spiral path of jagged stone. The walls dripped with faint rivers of essence, casting crimson reflections on their faces.
Riven's grip on his knife tightened. His chest was heavy, but his eyes stayed cold.
Seraphina walked beside him, calm, unhurried, as though she were strolling a palace corridor. Her voice echoed softly against the stone.
"Tell me, little Devourer… do you think this path leads to treasure? Salvation?"
Riven's gaze didn't waver. "Trial."
Her smirk widened. "Good. At least you're not foolish."
The path deepened until the mist grew so thick it felt like wading through water. Shapes flickered faintly at the edges of sight — twisted bodies, long limbs, pale eyes watching from the dark.
But none stepped closer.
Not yet.
It was as if the Gate itself held them back, waiting.
Finally, the spiral opened into a vast chamber.
Riven froze at the sight.
The room was a cathedral of stone and shadow. Pillars rose like broken teeth, rivers of essence crisscrossing the floor in glowing patterns.
At the center stood a throne of jagged rock.
And upon it —
Something waited.
Its body was tall, gaunt, wrapped in chains of blackened steel. Its face was hidden by a mask of cracked bone. From its back sprouted wings — not feathered, but skeletal, dripping faint rivers of essence.
Its eyes glowed faintly through the mask. Cold. Hungry.
The air grew heavy with its presence.
The hunger in Riven's veins screamed, rattling its chain violently. His vision blurred, his knees almost buckling under the weight pressing down on him.
Seraphina's voice was soft, almost reverent.
"Oh… now this is going to be fun."
— survive waves, prove control, or sacrifice something.