Riven woke up with a name in his head.
Aldric.
Theron's real name. The one he left behind.
Aldric the clerk, Riven thought. Aldric the nobody.
Now he's a hero.
Funny how the world worked.
He sat up. His body was less sore today. The training was working. Or maybe he was just getting used to the pain.
Elara was already awake. Sitting on her bed. Staring at the wall.
"You okay?" he asked.
"No."
She didn't look at him.
"My sister. She's going into the trial tomorrow. Same as us."
"The one in the upper dorm?"
"Yes."
"Is she strong?"
"Stronger than me."
"Then she'll be fine."
Elara turned her head. Her eyes were red again.
"You don't know that."
"No. I don't."
He stood up. Walked to her bed. Sat down next to her.
"What's her name?"
"Lira."
"How old?"
"Fourteen."
Young, he thought. Too young for this place.
But everyone here was too young. Even Theron. Even the Archivist, probably.
"What's your fragment?" he asked. "The one you used on my hand."
Elara was quiet for a moment.
"It's called Mending Touch. I can heal small injuries. Bruises. Cuts. Broken bones if they're not too bad."
"What did it cost you?"
She looked away.
"A memory of my mother. The last time she hugged me."
Riven felt something in his chest. Tight.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"Don't be. I chose to use it. On you."
"Why?"
She finally looked at him.
"Because you're the first person here who didn't look at me like I was already dead."
He didn't know what to say.
So he just sat there.
After a while, Kael appeared at the door.
"Training," he said. "Last night before the trial. You coming?"
Riven stood up.
"Yeah."
He looked at Elara. "You want to come?"
She shook her head.
"I need to see Lira. Before tomorrow."
"Okay."
He followed Kael out.
The corridors were busy. Students running. Some crying. One boy was throwing up in a corner.
"First trial nerves," Kael said. "Happens every time."
"How many trials have you done?"
"Three. Survived all of them. Barely."
"What fragments do you have?"
Kael held up his hand. A faint glow came from his palm.
"Stone Skin. Makes my body harder. Harder to cut. Harder to break."
"What did it cost?"
"My sense of taste. Food doesn't taste like anything anymore."
"That sucks."
"Yeah. But I'm alive."
They reached the training room. The dummy was still there. Still smiling.
Kael picked up two sticks. Tossed one to Riven.
"Last night. No holding back."
They fought.
Riven was better today. Faster. His body moved without thinking. Block. Duck. Swing.
He hit Kael in the shoulder.
Kael laughed.
"Good. Again."
They trained until Riven couldn't lift his arms.
Then they sat on the floor. Breathing hard.
"Tomorrow," Kael said. "The Dream of Aethel. You remember what Elara told you?"
"Maze of choices. Every door asks for something."
"Yeah. Don't give too much. Don't give too little. Find the balance."
"What did you give? Your first time?"
Kael was quiet.
"A promise. That I would never leave this place. I didn't know what it meant at the time. Now I do."
"What does it mean?"
"It means I can't leave. Even if I wanted to. The tower won't let me."
Riven felt cold.
"Can you break the promise?"
"No. That's the point of Aethel. His contracts are permanent."
They sat in silence.
Then Kael stood up.
"Get some sleep. Tomorrow, you either get your first fragment or you become a Hollow."
He left.
Riven stayed on the floor for a while.
His arms hurt. His chest hurt. Everything hurt.
One more night, he thought. Then the dream.
He walked back to the dorm.
Elara was there. She looked calmer.
"Did you see Lira?" he asked.
"Yes."
"How is she?"
"She's scared. But she pretends not to be."
"Like someone else I know."
Elara almost smiled.
"Go to sleep, Riven."
He lay down.
Stared at the ceiling.
The incense smell was everywhere.
He closed his eyes.
He dreamed of a door.
Not the iron door from before. A different one. Wood. Old. Covered in writing.
The writing moved. Changed. Turned into words he could read.
WHAT WILL YOU GIVE?
He woke up.
The room was dark. Elara was asleep. Kael was in his bed, snoring.
Riven sat up.
His hand was warm. The one Elara healed.
He looked at it.
Something was written on his palm. Small letters. Faint.
RIVEN.
His name.
The name the Archivist gave me, he thought. Not my real name. Just a name.
But it was something.
He closed his fist.
Lay back down.
Tomorrow, he thought. Tomorrow I find out who I am.
Or I die trying.
He slept.
No dreams this time.
Just darkness.
And the empty space in his head.
Waiting.