The air was cold at four in the morning—cold enough that the stone beneath Riven's back felt almost damp. She lay awake in her narrow bed inside the orphanage, staring at the dim ceiling as the first hints of dawn bled into the sky.
She hadn't slept.
She rarely slept.
Nightmares, memories, and the weight of fifteen lives never let her.
A soft whisper brushed the inside of her mind.
—What are you thinking about?
Morrivayne's voice was smooth, ancient, and annoyingly knowing.
"Nothing," Riven muttered. "Just wondering how I can make my power grow faster."
A low chuckle echoed through her skull.
—You're progressing well. There's no need to rush. We have all the time in the world… literally.
Riven exhaled. "You're right."
But then the room darkened.
Something blocked the light from the window.
Riven turned her head slowly… and froze.
A woman hovered inches above the floor—bare feet dangling, hair a long cascade of fire–red flames. Her eyes glowed like molten rubies, and black horns curled from her skull like those of a demon. A long black dress clung to her form, slit high in front and trailing behind like smoke. Enormous bat–like wings—black, veined, alive—unfurled from her back.
Her smile flashed sharp white fangs.
Morrivayne.
Her true form.
For the first time.
Riven just stared.
Morrivayne tilted her head.
"Are you frightened by what you see?"
Riven blinked once.
"Honestly? I thought you'd look older."
She propped her hands behind her head. "Turns out I'm older than you were in my first life… so maybe show some respect."
Morrivayne's face twisted with pure, offended confusion.
"You… are not scared?"
Her wings twitched.
"Should I be?" Riven said, already turning onto her back again.
Silence.
A long one.
As if Morrivayne simply couldn't process the insult.
Then she floated directly above Riven, leaning down, eyes glowing brighter.
"I have something important to tell you."
Her finger touched Riven's cheek.
Wherever it passed, the skin behind it glowed faintly red—like embers burning beneath.
Her finger slid down to Anya's neck.
Still, Riven didn't flinch.
"What did you learn?"
Morrivayne's smile widened—sharp, wicked, hungry.
"I know who placed the curse on the princess."
Her voice darkened.
"And I know which nobles have been whispering lies about you."
Riven didn't even sit up.
"Oh."
She stared blankly at her .
"So we'll deal with them when they come."
Cold.
Unbothered.
Emotionless.
A product of too many lives lost… too many betrayals.
Even Morrivayne paused at that.
Three Days Later — Training Grounds of the Royal Palace
The morning sun was warm, yet the atmosphere felt strained. Today was the second training session with Princess Lyria.
Riven adjusted the leather straps of her gloves while Lyria practiced footwork nearby—cheeks flushed with determination. Behind her stood Kara , her personal guard. Strong, broad–shouldered, with brown hair tied back and sharp eyes that constantly scanned the area.
Kara was already observing Riven.
Measuring her , eager .
"Just take one hit from me," she muttered under her breath. "Just one. She's perfect—I KNOW she's strong. Let me fight her, Princess."
"Kara," Lyria hissed, "stop it. She already refused."
"She'll accept one day," Kara smirked.
Riven heard all of it.
She ignored all of it.
Training continued calmly—until a noble's voice cut across the grounds.
"Well, well… the stray girl again. Allowed inside the palace like a pet."
Kara snapped instantly.
"What did you say?" she snarled, stepping forward, hand on her blade.
The noble sneered. "I'm surprised no one has checked her for forbidden magic. She's dangerous. A monster. The rumors must be true—"
Kara lunged.
She would have ripped him apart if Riven hadn't grabbed her from behind—arms around her shoulders, pulling her back effortlessly.
"Hey," Riven said with a practiced, pleasant, fake smile.
"Let it go."
Lyria's anger flared too, but Riven stopped her with a look—sharp and golden.
She forced both of them to calm down.
The training continued, though tension laced the air.
Riven, Lyria, and Kara walked toward the front gate together, the sun low on the horizon.
Lyria chatted beside her, still angry. Kara grumbled the entire time, itching for a rematch with that noble.
Then—
—Do you see them?
Morrivayne's voice dripped into Riven's mind like venom.
Three men approached.
Elegant. Rich. Arrogant.
The man in the middle carried a pleasant smile…
…a polite bow…
…perfect posture…
And the stench of black magic clinging to his soul.
Morrivayne spoke again.
That one. The one in the center. He is the one who placed the curse on the princess when she was a newborn.
Riven's eyes narrowed—gold turning sharper, colder.
She said nothing as the three men approached, bowed to Lyria, and exchanged formal greetings.
But Riven didn't look away from the man in the middle.
Not once.
Her stare was deadly, silent, precise—like a blade pressed lightly against someone's throat.
It was on purpose.
A warning.
And he felt it.
His smile trembled for half a second. a flicker of fear .
Lyria noticed Riven's expression and swallowed hard.
Kara's hand drifted toward her sword.
The noble bowed again… then hurried away with his two companions.
Only when they were gone did Riven finally blink.
Morrivayne purred in her mind.
—He knows that YOU know. Exactly as planned.
Riven exhaled slowly.
"I don't care," she murmured.
"But he will."
Lyria and Kara exchanged anxious glances. They could feel something shifting . Slowly , quietly .
like the first crack in a kingdom's foundation…