An hour later, right after the kidnapping.
The alley was narrow and starved of light, the kind of place the city forgot on purpose. Brick walls pressed in on both sides, damp with old rain and something metallic beneath it. The daylight barely reached it, breaking into fractured shadows that twitched whenever a car passed at the far end.
Riven stood between Freddie and the street, broad shoulders squared, body angled just enough to block him completely. One arm braced against the brick near Freddie's head, the other loose at his side—ready. His ears tracked every sound: footsteps that never arrived, an engine idling too long before moving on, distant voices swallowed by the night.
He didn't move.
Not until the city slid back into its usual, indifferent rhythm.
When it did, Riven finally eased his stance. The tension didn't vanish—it folded inward, tight and controlled. He took one last look toward the alley entrance, then turned.
Freddie was sitting on the ground, back against the wall. His legs were pulled up tight, arms wrapped around them like he was holding himself together by force alone. His eyes were fixed on the pavement, unfocused, glassy—not panicked, just… hollow.
Riven exhaled through his nose. He crouched in front of him instead of towering over him.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then—
"Hey."
The word landed gently, but it was steady.
Freddie didn't look up.
"The car's gone. I circled, I didn't loop back."
That got a reaction—not much, just a small tightening in Freddie's shoulders.
Riven shifted, resting his forearms on his knees, keeping his posture open. He wasn't blocking the world anymore. He was anchoring it.
"You did good," he continued.
"Did exactly what I told you."
Freddie lifted his head to glance at Riven.
"They were following us," Freddie said.
Riven nodded once.
"Yeah."
A pause stretched between them, thick with everything they didn't say.
Riven leaned back against the opposite wall, close enough that Freddie could feel the heat of him without being crowded.
"But following doesn't mean they found what they wanted,"
"And it doesn't mean they know where we are now."
Freddie's grip around his legs tightened, then slowly loosened.
"They just… disappeared,"
Riven's jaw flexed at that—not fear, but calculation.
"That's how the city works, things slip out of sight all the time."
He let the words sit before adding, lower—
"Doesn't mean they're gone."
Freddie finally shifted, resting his forehead briefly against his knees. Riven didn't rush him. Didn't reach out yet.
When he did, it was slow—an open hand placed against the brick beside Freddie, not touching, just present.
"We lay low," Riven said.
"We wait. And we pay attention."
Riven then unexpectedly grabbed Freddie's hand with a soft motion, caressing to his chest like a promise.
"I've got you."
Freddie didn't respond—but his breathing evened out, just a little. He never really had that kind of energy for someone who wanted to protect him.
Riven stayed where he was—enjoying the moment of holding, solid and unmoving, a barrier that would have to get through first.
Riven finally let go of Freddie's hand and rose to his feet in one smooth motion. The moment the contact broke, the restlessness returned—subtle, immediate. He didn't like waiting. Never had. Standing still felt like inviting trouble, like giving the city time to rearrange itself around them.
He scanned the alley again, eyes tracking the street beyond, ears catching fragments of sound that meant nothing and everything all at once. Satisfied, he turned back.
"We move," he said quietly.
Riven extended his hand toward Freddie, palm open, steady. There was no rush in the gesture, no hesitation either—just certainty. Freddie took it, and Riven pulled him up with a firm, grounding motion, making sure he was balanced before letting go. He stayed close afterward, positioning himself just slightly in front of Freddie, instinctively shielding him from the open street.
"Here's the plan," Riven continued, voice low and controlled.
"We stay out tonight."
Freddie looked at him, confused but listening.
"The Night Reign, we don't dive in blind, but we don't ignore it."
He gestured down the street, then subtly upward—rooftops, corners, paths only the observant would notice.
"We look for glitches. Things that don't line up. Places that feel… wrong."
Riven met Freddie's eyes fully now.
"And we figure out what that other world really is—before it starts figuring us out."
He paused, letting the weight of it settle.
"No heroics, no risks we don't need to take. But we don't pretend this was nothing."
The city continued on around them, indifferent and unaware. Riven shifted his stance, already ready to move, focus locked forward—as if the night had handed him a puzzle, and walking away was never an option.
"Stay close,"
This time, it wasn't a request.
15 minutes later, they reached Freddie's apartment, the city had settled into a false calm. Daylight filtered weakly through the narrow streets, washed thin by smog and glass, but it was enough to make the stairwell feel exposed. Riven didn't relax until the door was shut behind them and the lock slid into place with a solid click.
Only then did his shoulders lower.
They moved through the apartment quietly, the kind of quiet that comes after adrenaline burns itself out. Freddie sank onto the couch first, exhaustion pulling him inward as he curled slightly, hands resting uselessly in his lap. Riven lingered near the door for a second longer, listening out of habit, then crossed the room and sat beside him, leaving just enough space to breathe.
They stayed like that for a moment.
Riven finally spoke, his voice low but steady.
"Can I ask you something personal."
Freddie nodded.
Riven glanced at him, then back toward the floor.
"Have you ever had a real friend. Not someone you talk to sometimes. Someone you'd trust when things go wrong."
Freddie hesitated, then slowly shook his head.
Riven let out a quiet breath. "Yeah. Same now."
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, hands clasped loosely as if holding something fragile.
"I had one when I was younger. We were kids. Teenagers, technically, but still stupid in the way only kids are. Same neighborhood, same schools, same places to hide when we didn't want to be home. We'd known each other for years, long enough that it felt permanent."
His eyes closed as he continued.
"We went on a winter camping trip. Nothing extreme. A few days out, something we'd done before. Snow started early that year, but it wasn't supposed to be bad. We packed light because we thought we'd be smart enough to manage."
Riven opened his eyes, his shoulders rolling as if something old had settled there again.
"The storm came down fast. Trails vanished. Everything blurred together. At first we laughed about it, told ourselves it would pass. We moved through the heavy snow on a hill, eventually they slipped near a ridge and their ankle went wrong, twisted bad enough that they couldn't stand without collapsing."
His body tightened, he felt an uncomfortable weight on his shoulders.
"They tried anyway. I watched them fall twice, watched the snow soak through their clothes, watched the color drain from their face. It was getting darker, colder, louder in my head. I knew staying meant freezing together, and I knew leaving meant choosing who might survive."
His hands clenched.
"And I chose myself."
Freddie looked at him now.
"I didn't just leave to get help," Riven said, voice flat with honety.
"I convinced myself I could outrun the storm, that I'd be faster alone, that I wasn't strong enough to carry them. I told them to stay put and wait, but I knew even then I wasn't sure I'd come back."
He leaned back, staring at the ceiling.
"When I turned away, something tightened in my chest. It wasn't fear nor panic. It felt like a door closing, like a decision locking itself into place. I remember thinking that once I took that step, there was no version of me that went back."
His voice dropped lower.
"I didn't look behind me. I… left for good, real good."
The room felt heavier.
"I barely made it out. By the time I found people, the storm had erased everything. Search teams went out later. They never found them."
He briefly takes a breath.
"However, a couple months later, a couple who trailed along the hills eventually found a gear… and the body."
A pause, then—
"Their body was froze… and torn by predators—mostly by warnalds. I saw the pictures that the search team took."
Riven turned his head down, he didn't want to look at Freddie at all. He let that sink in, Freddie's reaction was… in shock—with a hint dark fear.
Riven turned his head toward Freddie, his eyes sharp but hollow.
"That was the moment my shadow started to matter. Not because I survived, but because of how I did it. Leaving someone behind wasn't an accident, it was a calculation, and the part of me that made that choice didn't disappear afterward. It stayed. It watched. It learned."
He placed his hand against Freddie's, firm and grounding.
"That's why I don't wait. Why I move first. Why I put myself between danger and the people near me. I already know what it feels like to live as the sole survivor, and I won't let that be the only version of me that exists."
He exhaled slowly.
"My shadow remembers what I did, even when I don't want to."
Freddie didn't pull away.
Riven stayed seated beside him, solid and unmoving, like someone who had already crossed one line in his life and refused to ever cross it again.
Freddie's voice was hesitant, almost small.
"Do… you know why your shadow exists? Isn't there any connection to the Night Reign at all?"
The question landed like a weight in Riven's chest. He opened his mouth, closed it, and tried again. There was no easy answer. The truth was, he didn't know. He had never been able to trace it, never been able to see if it was tied to the Night Reign, or if it was simply… something that had always been there, waiting, watching.
His gaze dropped to the floor, unseeing. Shadows flickered across the walls, pale in the faint light, and for a moment it felt like his own shadow shifted just a little, aware. Did it move because he thought of it, or because it had its own will? He didn't know, and the thought that it might exist independent of him, that it might have a purpose he could never control, made the room feel colder.
"I… I don't know,"
he admitted finally, voice low and rough.
"I don't know if it's connected, if it's part of something bigger… or if it's just… me."
He let the words hang, heavy between them, because even saying them aloud didn't bring clarity. It never had.
Then it clicked for Freddie.
The shadow.
The moment it first appeared, the moment it felt real, hadn't been during the plaza or the blood or the pain. It had been earlier than that. It had been when the loneliness hit him so hard it felt like his chest might split open, that sharp, sudden spike beneath his ribs that stole the air from his lungs. The feeling was the same one he had just heard in Riven's voice.
A quiet, sinking realization crept over him. The shadow hadn't arrived with violence. It had arrived with something heavier. Sorrow. Guilt. The kind of pain that didn't scream, just settled in and refused to leave.
His brow furrowed as his thoughts unraveled. If the shadow was born from that feeling, then what did that mean? And if both of them felt it, then this wasn't random. It had some type of… purpose, but what?
Another question surfaced, colder and more dangerous than the last.
How long had the Night Reign been there, waiting for moments like that?
"Riven,"
Freddie said quietly, lifting his head.
"How long has the Night Reign existed? When did you ever witness it?"
Riven's eyes widened. Not in confusion, but in recognition. Like Freddie had brushed against something he wasn't supposed to touch.
He leaned back against the couch, he pondered for a bit, his gaze drifted to the far wall. The room seemed to dim around him, not because the light changed, but because his attention had gone somewhere else entirely. Somewhere older.
"I didn't have a name for it back then, didn't even know it was a 'thing.' I just thought the world… broke at night sometimes."
"First time I noticed it, I was sixteen. Not fully in it, not like now. Just glimpses, I saw weird glitches throughout my age. As I got older, I saw more and more, and thought that this definitely wasn't normal. People acting like nothing was wrong while everything felt wrong."
His fingers curled against his palm.
"It got clearer after the winter,"
Voice tightening.
"After what I did."
He didn't look at Freddie when he said it, but the weight of the words settled between them like a shadow of its own.
"I believe that our shadows are connected to the Night Reign,"
Freddie glanced up at him.
"Has it ever told you that it is?"
The question landed harder than either of them expected.
Riven went still, then frowned, processing it properly this time. He shook his head.
"No. I don't think so. I'm already getting a headache trying to understand how they even exist in the first place."
Freddie leaned back slightly, thinking.
"Mine said it was there at the start. I just didn't know it existed until the Night Reign began showing up. I'd only been in the city for a month when it started happening."
Riven stared at the floor, gears turning.
"Maybe they've always existed," he said slowly.
"But the form they take, the way they act…"
His train of thought derailed. He dragged a hand through his hair, then abruptly slammed his palm against the table.
"THIS MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE!"
The table rattled but held. Freddie jumped, his ears flattening as his heart spiked.
"Hey—hey," Freddie said quickly.
"Let's just not think about this right now. We'll find out more later. It's probably better if we don't dump everything at once."
Riven froze, his chest rising and falling hard. For a second, it looked like he might snap again, but then he exhaled slowly and leaned back, rubbing his face with both hands.
"Yeah, you're right. I'm just…"
He dropped his hands, eyes shadowed.
"I don't like not knowing what's inside me."
Silence settled over the apartment, heavier now but less volatile. Outside, the city carried on as if nothing strange had ever happened, daylight sliding along the windows in soft bands.
Riven straightened after a moment, the tension pulling back into that familiar, controlled shape.
"We rest for now. When night comes, we move. If the Night Reign is tied to this, then that's when answers show themselves."
Freddie nodded, though unease twisted low in his stomach. He could still remember the feeling in his chest, the loneliness that had cut so deep it felt like something had opened inside him. If that was the doorway, then night wasn't just when answers appeared.
It was when things crossed over.
And somewhere beyond the walls of the apartment, the shadows were already waiting.