Thief (Riven POV)
---
The hall is silent.
Silence… used to mean order. Now it only means the absence of noise.
A man is kneeling before me.
There is blood on him. Not his own.
A thief. He killed someone.
I know this. The Void says it. The documents say it. Cory says it.
The man is trembling.
He doesn't dare lift his eyes.
Smart.
---
Cory steps forward.
His armor gleams. His voice is clear. No hesitation.
> "My lord," he says. "We will execute him immediately." "Do not worry."
I've heard this sentence before.
Normally, I wouldn't even lift my head.
A single hand gesture would be enough.
---
But this time…
Nothing happens.
The Void does not speak.
I do not speak.
The man breathes.
That is unsettling.
---
My gaze drifts to him without intent.
To his hands.
Dirty. Bloody. Shaking.
For a moment—
the color of the blood catches my attention.
Red.
Why did that matter?
---
"No," I say.
My voice echoes through the hall.
Cory freezes.
> "There's no need."
The words leave my mouth.
I don't expect them myself.
> "Put him in prison." "That's enough."
---
Silence.
But this silence… is broken.
Cory turns to me.
His eyes wide. Brows drawn together.
> "What…?" he says.
Just one word.
But it holds everything: Shock. Objection. Fear.
---
The Void finally speaks.
Late. Cold.
> "This is illogical."
Cory is still looking at me.
> "My lord," he says more slowly, "This man—"
I cut him off.
"He killed someone," I say.
Cory falls silent.
"I know."
The man lifts his head.
For the first time.
Our eyes meet.
And in that moment—
something happens.
---
A flash.
A child. On the ground. Knees bleeding.
Not me.
Him.
He is kneeling.
Someone stands before him.
A long shadow.
> "You can stand up."
---
My breath catches.
The Void does not scream.
But its voice hardens.
> "Do not look."
But it's too late.
---
My hand rises instinctively.
A signal.
"Take him away," I say. "To the dungeon."
My voice is firm.
The man is on the verge of tears. But he makes no sound.
As the guards drag him away, Cory still does not move.
Finally, he speaks.
> "My lord…"
There is something in his voice.
Not obedience.
Concern.
---
I turn to him.
"Is there a problem, Cory?"
He swallows.
> "No," he says. "Just…"
He stops.
Doesn't continue.
Smart.
---
The Void whispers.
> "This is weakness."
I look at Cory.
Then at the door.
"Dismissed," I say.
The hall empties.
---
When I'm alone…
I look at my hands.
They're trembling.
I don't stop it.
The Void is silent.
That is worse.
---
That weak voice inside me…
almost gone.
But still there.
> "You tried to save him too."
"No," I whisper.
I don't know who I'm speaking to.
The Void? Myself?
---
I made a decision.
But whether it was mine—
I don't know.
All I know is this:
In the past, this man would have died.
Today, he did not.
And there will be a price for that.
---
Question (Cory POV)
---
I had to catch him alone.
That used to be easy.
Now… it isn't.
Riven was standing at the end of the corridor. His back to me. His hands folded inside his robe.
He always stood like that.
But this time— his shoulders were tense.
I approached.
I didn't hide my footsteps.
He used to turn before I reached him.
He didn't.
---
"My lord," I said.
My voice was normal. As it should be.
Riven slowly turned his head.
He looked at me.
But that look— didn't see me.
"Do you want something, Cory?" he said.
I did.
But I didn't know what.
---
"Your decision earlier," I said. "About the thief."
He stopped.
Just stopped.
I waited for the Void to speak.
Nothing happened.
---
"Was it wrong?" he asked.
That question…
should not come from Riven.
My throat went dry.
"No," I said quickly. "I just—"
I stopped.
If I continued, there would be no turning back.
But if I stayed silent— it would be worse.
---
"My lord," I said more quietly. "In the past…"
I hesitated.
Riven tilted his head slightly.
He was listening.
Truly.
That frightened me.
"You never hesitated before."
Silence.
Long.
Heavy.
Finally, Riven spoke.
"In the past," he said, "who was I?"
That question—
caught me unprepared.
"My lord?"
"To kill someone," he said, "do I need to be myself?"
This time, I fell silent.
---
I took a step forward.
The distance between us closed.
"Riven," I said.
The first time I said his name like that.
No title.
No king.
Just— him.
"This change," I said. "Is it a sign of something?"
His eyes darkened.
Not with anger.
With emptiness.
---
> Void: "This conversation is unnecessary."
The voice—
fell between us.
But I didn't hear it as Cory—
I heard it inside myself.
Riven flinched.
So did I.
My eyes widened.
"My lord," I whispered, "Just now… did you—?"
Riven snapped his head up.
"What did you hear?" he said.
It was a question.
But it sounded like a threat.
---
"Nothing," I said.
I lied.
We both knew it.
Riven turned away.
Looked down the corridor.
"This matter is closed," he said.
An old sentence.
But hollow.
---
"My lord," I said one last time.
If I didn't say it now— I never would.
"Are you… in pain?"
---
Time stopped.
The Void did not scream.
Riven did not scream.
Only—
his hand trembled.
I saw it.
Clearly.
---
"I don't know," he said at last.
And in that moment—
I understood.
That answer…
was not a king's answer.
It was the answer of someone broken.
---
Riven began to walk.
As he passed me, he looked at me.
"Never," he said, "ask that question again."
But in his voice…
there was a plea.
---
I stayed there.
Alone.
And I knew this:
This was no longer only Riven's war.
If he fell—
there would be no one left to catch him.
---
Dungeon (Cory POV)
---
The dungeon was cold.
That was nothing new.
What was new— was the silence.
The man sat in the corner. Hands still bound. Head lowered.
I should have taken him to execution.
But I didn't.
I couldn't explain why.
Maybe—
because of my lord's voice.
---
He heard my footsteps.
He didn't lift his head.
> "You're late," he said.
I paused.
"What?" I said.
The man smiled.
Not a victorious smile.
A tired one.
> "If you came to kill me," he said, "at least talk first."
That calmness…
didn't belong to a thief.
---
"Say your name," I said.
"No need."
I stepped closer.
Stopped before the iron bars.
"You killed someone," I said. "You don't deny it."
He nodded.
> "I don't."
> "But I killed the wrong person."
This time—
I fell silent.
---
"What do you mean?" I said.
The man lifted his eyes.
I saw his face for the first time.
His eyes… were not afraid.
> "I was trying to save him."
My chest tightened.
I had heard that sentence before.
But where?
---
"You're lying," I said.
"A liar," he said calmly,
> "fears death."
Then he looked straight at me.
> "Your king is afraid."
That word—
was the wrong word.
A king does not fear.
Riven does not fear.
---
"They were going to cut off the child's hand," he said.
"Silence," I said.
But my voice wasn't firm.
> "I stepped in."
> "The knife didn't go to me— it went to him."
My breath caught.
"You…" I said. "You were defending a child?"
He nodded.
> "I was an older brother too."
---
The dungeon walls seemed to close in.
This conversation had to end.
Now.
"Enough," I said.
I turned away.
Just as I was leaving—
he spoke.
One sentence.
Slow.
But clear.
> "When his sister stepped in front of him— that child looked the same way."
I felt myself stop.
But I didn't turn around.
> "The same eyes," he said. "The eyes of someone who knows he's not guilty."
Something happened.
I couldn't feel it.
But I knew.
That sentence—
should not have been spoken.
---
There was no sound behind me.
But I felt pressure.
It wasn't the Void's voice.
But it was just as cold.
> "This conversation is over."
The man fell silent.
So did I.
---
When I left the dungeon, my hands were shaking.
I looked at the sky.
The sun was setting.
Again.
And I understood this:
Letting that man live was not the mistake.
The mistake—
was listening to him.
Because now I knew:
Riven didn't need to remember.
Others were remembering for him.
---
Night (Cory POV)
---
The night was quiet.
That was wrong.
The palace is never quiet at night. There is always something. Footsteps. Whispers. A changing of guards.
Tonight— there was nothing.
My chest tightened.
---
I was in the corridor leading to Riven's chamber.
The door was open.
That was wrong too.
Riven never left doors open.
Never.
---
I went inside.
The room was dimly lit.
Riven was in bed.
Eyes closed.
Breathing.
Deep.
But—
he was not asleep.
I felt it.
---
Then…
he sat up.
Not suddenly. Calmly.
Like a king.
But that movement— was not Riven's.
---
"Riven?" I said.
My voice echoed.
He stopped.
Turned his head toward me.
His eyes were open.
But they were not looking.
---
> "Be quiet."
The voice—
was Riven's voice.
But the tone— was not.
It had two layers.
As if two beings were speaking at once.
---
I stepped back.
Without meaning to.
"You…" I said. "You're not awake."
He smiled.
Riven does not smile.
> "No," he said. "He is sleeping."
My heart slammed against my ribs.
"Take your hand off him," I said.
A foolish sentence.
But I had nothing else.
---
Riven walked.
Passed me.
Brushed my shoulder.
Cold.
Ice-cold.
But alive.
This body— was real.
---
"What are you doing?" I said.
No answer.
He went to the table in the corner.
A dagger lay there.
A ceremonial dagger.
Sharp.
Untouchable.
---
He reached out.
Took it.
And—
without hesitation—
cut his own palm.
Blood flowed.
Red.
Real.
---
"Stop!" I shouted.
He didn't move.
Blood dripped to the floor.
Then…
he drew something on the ground with it.
Two lines.
A circle.
A smile.
---
My knees nearly gave out.
"No…" I whispered.
"How do you know this?"
---
Riven turned to me.
Tilted his head.
> "He doesn't know."
> "But I do."
Then he stepped closer.
Very close.
Looked at my face.
Empty.
But aware.
> "When he wakes up," he said, "he won't remember anything."
> "But you—"
He took one more step.
> "—you will remember."
Then…
he collapsed.
The dagger fell.
Riven fainted.
---
I ran to him.
Laid him on the bed.
His pulse was normal.
He was sleeping.
Truly.
---
When morning came…
Riven woke up.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
His voice was normal.
His eyes were empty.
"I don't remember anything," he said.
Then he looked at his palm.
Frowned.
"This wound…"
---
I couldn't answer.
Because on the floor—
the symbol drawn in blood was still there.
And this time…
it hadn't faded.
---
Riven didn't know.
But I did.
The Void was no longer whispering.
It was walking.
And to stop it…
Riven didn't need to remember.
---
Mark (Cory POV)
---
When the sun rose, I told no one.
Not the guards. Not the servants. Not even—
Riven.
I was in the room when he woke.
"Why are you here?" he asked.
No suspicion in his voice. Just habit.
"I was on night duty," I said.
A lie.
But a good one.
---
Riven got out of bed.
Looked at his palm.
The wound was fresh.
His brow furrowed.
"This…" he said. "Did I do this?"
I didn't answer.
That was an answer.
---
He noticed the smell.
Blood.
His gaze drifted downward.
He saw the symbol.
Two lines. A circle. A smile.
He stared at it.
For a long time.
Too long.
The Void did not speak.
That was wrong.
---
"This," he said at last, "someone drew this."
I nodded.
"You didn't erase it," he said.
Not a question.
"No," I said.
---
Silence.
Riven knelt.
Leaned closer to the symbol.
He reached out.
I thought he would touch it.
He didn't.
"Familiar," he said.
That word—
pierced my chest.
---
"My lord," I said carefully. "If you wish—"
"No," he said.
Fast.
Sharp.
For the first time.
"Let it stay."
---
At that moment—
the Void spoke.
But not to Riven.
To me.
The voice didn't come from my ears.
It came from inside me.
> "You should not have done this."
My throat tightened.
But I didn't step back.
"I know," I whispered.
---
Riven stood up.
Adjusted his robe.
Looked at the symbol one last time.
"Who did this?" he asked.
I didn't answer.
Because the correct answer—
was in the room.
---
Riven headed for the door.
Stopped.
"Cory," he said.
There was hesitation in his voice.
Real.
"If I…" "If one day…"
He stopped.
Didn't continue.
---
I bowed my head.
"I'm with you," I said.
No matter the cost.
---
Riven left.
The room was empty.
The symbol remained on the floor.
Unwashed.
Open.
Like an invitation.
---
The Void spoke again.
Closer.
> "You cannot use him against me."
I smiled.
That was wrong too.
"I'm not using him against you," I said softly.
"I'm waking him up."
---
I looked at the symbol.
And for the first time, I thought this:
Maybe what the Void feared was not Riven remembering.
Maybe—
it was Riven choosing.
---