I'm… alive? One second I was in the void, the next I was here—somewhere dark. A rotting basement, walls damp with decay. The air felt thick—suffocating—like something invisible was wrapped around my throat. Chains rattled in the distance, their clinks soft and weary, as if even the metal had grown tired. A cold, rusted collar sat tight against my neck. I could feel it with every breath. Heavy. Oppressive. The stench was overwhelming. The stench of piss, rot, mold, and blood clung to every inch of air.
I gagged. My throat was too dry to retch. My pants were soaked through. Not sweat—urine. The fabric was nothing more than stitched sacks. Rough. Torn. I winced. Something sharp was poking out. Tiny broken needles in the seams. This body—isn't mine. My hands were small. My legs frail. My bones ached with the kind of pain that didn't come from just lying on cold stone—it came from living in it. I shifted, only slightly, and pain bloomed across my back like fire ants crawling under my skin.
Scars. So many scars.
Old. Fresh. Layered on top of one another. This wasn't just a prison. It was a grave that hadn't decided who to bury yet. There were others. Children. They were thin, sickly, and silent. Some were curled into corners, too weak to speak. Others leaned against the damp walls like they were part of them. Their eyes were hollow. Not scared. Not crying. Just… hollow. Like crying stopped working a long time ago. And then I noticed her. The girl beside me. Smaller than the rest. Maybe eight, tops. She sat cross-legged on the floor, a thin blanket draped over her head like a veil. She didn't move or tremble—just listened.
I turned slightly to face her, and for the first time, I heard the whisper: "They come when you cry." Her voice was soft. Barely audible over the silence. "They don't like noise. So don't cry, okay?" She wasn't talking to me. She was talking to herself, over and over. Like a mantra. I stared at her. Her skin was pale, almost bluish. Her arms were covered in little bruises that looked like fingerprints. And her eyes—
Wait.
They were milky. Blind. She tilted her head toward me suddenly. "Are you new?" she asked, still whispering. I hesitated. Then nodded slightly, not sure if she could even see it. "They put the new ones near the pit," she said. "Means they think you won't last." Nice. "Don't speak when they open the door. Don't move too much. Pretend you're asleep." "If they pick you, don't scream. Screaming makes it worse." She said it so flatly. So calmly. Like reciting bedtime rules. Oh god… what had she been through this whole time? I wanted to ask her name. But I couldn't. Before I could say anything, the ceiling creaked above us.
Heavy boots.
Voices. Low and grumbling. "We didn't get a good haul this time. These rats won't even fetch a silver." "The boss will be pissed." I stiffened. So did the girl. She pulled the blanket tighter around her. Another voice barked out, rougher, full of venom. "Especially that void-spawn. No one wants him. Should've left him in the gutter." Void-spawn? Were they talking about me? "Tch, I say we kill him now. Won't make a difference." A loud thud. The basement opened. Steps pounded down the staircase. And then—My mind screamed. Like something inside me twisted violently. My chest tightened. Breath shallow. Muscles tense. I knew it before I saw him.
He was coming for me.
I don't know how I knew—but I knew. Like my soul had lived this moment before. The girl whimpered and buried her face between her knees. I tried to move, yanked at my chains. Desperately. Metal tore into my wrists, but I didn't care. I needed to get away. Then, the man stepped into the room. Massive. Cloaked in shadows. Only his boots caught the torchlight—splattered with old blood. He didn't hesitate. He walked straight to me. I clenched my teeth. Tried to brace. It didn't matter. The first hit stole my air.The second cracked something. The third blurred my vision. They laughed. He wasn't just punishing me. He was enjoying it. "Void-spawn, huh? Let's see how long you last." I tried to block—pointless. Bones broke anyway. Pain was everywhere. It became the only language I understood. Time lost meaning and I was meat. A toy.
Eventually… they left. I didn't.
I was still breathing—barely. The world was dull grey smudge. My ears rang. My ribs felt wrong. My fingers wouldn't move. The pain stabbed until it reached the forehead. I wanted to cry, scream, but there was nothing left. Then, a small warmth. A hand on my shoulder. The girl. She'd crawled over… "A-are you…alive?" I coughed. Blood spilled from my mouth. My throat felt like a sandpaper. My lips cracked as I tried to speak. I looked at her. Really looked. She was blind, and yet… she saw me clearer than anyone else ever had. I swallowed hard, and croaked out: "It's okay… I… rest…" Darkness swallowed me. For a moment, I thought it was death—but then, memories bled into my vision like ink in water. A fragmented dream—no, not a dream. A memory. Or maybe something deeper.
It didn't feel like mine. It felt like something borrowed. Inherited.A younger version of this body… crying. Alone. He trembled in the dark, knees tucked into his chest, dirt smeared across his face. Afraid of everything. No one was coming for him. All he knew was abandonment—left behind by his parents on the street like garbage. Then came the shadows. The strangers. The cold bag over his head. He was tested for mana, like all street orphans. But his results came back empty. Null. Useless. No spark. No flow. Just void. That was when they started calling him Void-spawn. Or worse—It. Not a boy. Not a person. Just a thing. One night, they whipped him for crying too loudly. And so, he stopped. But he still cried in his sleep with his body covered in fresh and dried blood. And then—something warm. A gentle touch on his shoulder. I recognized the sensation.
It was her.
The same girl was there, even in his memories. She held his small, shaking hand and hummed a soft lullaby. Her voice trembled but never faltered. A faint song in the middle of hell. A melody of survival. But peace never lasted. Eventually, both of them were caught again. Punished. Tortured together. One night, the boy—this body—lay on the floor, skin broken, ribs aching. He stared up at the ceiling, wishing it would open and swallow him. And then—it did. A pair of glowing arms emerged from the ceiling. Not terrifying. Not monstrous.
Radiant. Soft. Divine.
The arms embraced the boy like a mother would a baby. "Ma..ma…" The boy whispered. Slowly, they lifted him into a brighter light. "May peace embraces you from darkness," a voice whispered. And just like that… He went still. Like he entered a sleep he didn't plan to wake from. I gasped awake. Cold sweat poured down my neck. My chest rose and fell in sharp, uneven breaths. I was shivering—not from the cold, but from the feeling of having felt someone else's death. Across from me sat the girl with the milky eyes and white hair. She was perched quietly at my side; hands folded over her lap. Her face was unreadable, but her presence was grounding—like a lighthouse in the fog.
"You cried in your sleep," she said, though her eyes stared past me.
I didn't answer. I couldn't. The name Ren echoed faintly in my head… but here, now, it felt hollow. Like a name for a ghost. Who was I now? Am I still Ren? She tilted her head slightly. "Do you have a name?" I turned my gaze toward the cold floor. "Then I'll give you one…" She leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Riven."
I blinked. "What?" "It means torn. Shattered. But you're still here—you survived. Pain remembers you, but you're alive. That's enough for a name." I swallowed hard. Something heavy settled in my chest. Not fear. Not even pain. Just… truth. Riven. A name born out of ruin but still standing. I glanced down at my body. The bruises had faded slightly. Some of the pain had dulled. It shouldn't have. Not that quickly. But I let it go for now. "Then… what's your name?" I asked, voice raw. She hesitated, like she had to pull it from somewhere deep inside. Placing a hand over her chest, she tilted her blind gaze toward me.
"Lune," she said softly. "My name is… Lune."
Her name resonated in a way that felt… inevitable. Like it belonged only to her. Not just a name, but an identity—her very being, wrapped in soft syllables and quiet strength. I couldn't quite put it into words, but every time I thought of her, something came to mind. Not a grand image. Not something flashy. Something simple. At first, I thought it was like a cup of warm water. No… That wasn't enough. Lune was like a sliver of moonlight—peaceful, quiet, distant… yet always present. Watching. Not with eyes, but with something deeper. Something that saw without seeing. But in truth, it wasn't moonlight or water that brought me comfort.
It was her.
"Lune…" I whispered under my breath, as if speaking it would anchor her name into my memory. "Mhm… that's right, Riven." She said my name like it mattered. Like I mattered. Then, without warning, she shifted closer. I felt warmth. Small, trembling hands reached for mine. Not grabbing—reading. Her fingers traced mine slowly, gently, as if my hands held stories she wanted to know. Each finger, each callus and scar, she passed over them like one would read Braille. "I want to remember you," she whispered.
Her hands moved upward, slowly, hesitantly, until they reached my face. She cupped my cheeks—lightly at first—then let her fingertips explore. The slope of my nose. The sharpness of my cheekbones. My chin still bruised. My lips, dry and cracked. She paused at a scar near my jawline, brushing over it like it was a page in a book she wasn't sure she wanted to finish. "You're warm now… but your skin feels like it's holding in tears it never cried." Her hands moved to my lips. "And your mouth… it twitches when you think too much." Then her fingers drifted to my forehead. She smiled—faint, almost imperceptible. "Your forehead feels like it carries the weight of frowning at the world." She withdrew her hands slowly, as if committing the shape of me to memory. "Now I know your face." Then she added, almost in a whisper only the dark could hear:
"Even if the world takes my body… my mind will always carry you — like the moon carries the night."
Huh… It felt like a prayer. Like even in the darkest moments, she'd be there watching over me, silently, like a constant beneath the chaos. Lune knelt beside me again, her fingers gently wrapping around mine. Her voice was quiet, but it cut through the damp silence like a blade of moonlight. "I offer you… an escape." I blinked. My heart, dulled by pain, skipped. "Riven… I believe you have what it takes to help us get out of here. The mansion."
Escape?
My thoughts scattered. How? We were chained, starved, half-dead. She's blind. I could barely move, let alone fight. And yet… staying here meant death. A slow, unremarkable death. "But how?" I wanted to ask—but my throat was too raw. Lune, as if hearing the question in my silence, tightened her grip. "Riven, I know what you're thinking. All I need is your trust." Her voice wavered, not from fear but from resolve. "I can't stay here anymore. I'm tired—tired of being scared. Tired of whispering the rules like they're lullabies. I want to live, Riven…" She leaned in closer, resting her forehead softly against my arm.
"I want us… away from this."
I stared at her, stunned. The girl who couldn't even see the walls—knew their boundaries better than anyone inside them. She had mapped them in her mind, traced their outlines in the silence, memorized every creak in the floors and every pause in a captor's breath. "You have doubts, I know," she said, her voice steady now. "But I've been here long enough to know this place's layout. Every corner. Every turn. Every pattern. I can lead us." Her blind eyes turned toward me like they could see me, deeper than sight ever could.
"All I need is for you to stand up… and believe me."
My body still ached. My ribs still throbbed. But something had changed. I had decided. I wouldn't let her rot here. If Lune believed in a way out, then damn it—I'd follow her through hell if I had to. She gently let go of my hand and shifted her weight, crawling toward one of the corners of the basement. Her fingers skimmed the cracked floor with practiced ease, searching… then stopped. "Here," she whispered. "The stone's loose." She dug her tiny fingers under the edge of a jagged floor tile and pried out a dark piece of charcoal—or was it blackened stone?
The surface crumbled slightly in her grip. Then, slowly, she began to move. Her fingers danced with an eerie familiarity, dragging lines across the cold stone floor. The strokes were deliberate, precise, like she wasn't just drawing—but remembering. No hesitation. No missteps. I watched in silence, mesmerized. A circle formed. Then symbols. Runes I couldn't read but felt familiar, geometries that made my vision blur if I looked too long. It was like the ground itself was responding—faint pulses of energy rippling through the charcoal lines. "What are you doing…?" I breathed. She didn't answer right away. Her lips moved silently, mouthing something under her breath. A chant? A spell?
Then finally, without looking up: "Magic."
With that single word, the world shifted. A dull glow emerged from the drawn circle, like moonlight rising through cracks in the earth. The chains that had bound my neck for what felt like an eternity suddenly felt… lighter. Warmer. Click. I flinched. The collar unlatched. It didn't explode. It didn't burn. It just… fell. My collar clattered to the floor, joined by the sound of the wrist shackles loosening seconds later. My limbs trembled from freedom I didn't yet understand. "Y-You… how?" I stammered, still frozen in place.
Lune reached over and placed a finger to my lips.
"We can talk later." She pulled the chains off her own body with a practiced motion. Her thin arms shook slightly but her expression remained calm, calmer than I thought anyone in this place could ever be. Then she turned her head slightly toward me. Her voice was quieter now, just above a whisper. "Just follow me… and cover me if anything happens." She stood. Wobbly, but determined. I nodded. I didn't know how to use magic. I didn't even know what I was anymore. But I knew one thing:
I was not letting her go alone.