The air vibrated with raw power.
Riven's black-gold aura crackled with energy, making the dust and shadows twist around him like a storm caught mid-breath. Across the shattered sanctum, the Executioners spread out, their red runes pulsing in a synchronized rhythm — the heartbeat of an army that felt no fear, no hesitation, no mercy.
Azael stepped beside Riven, shadows unfurling from his back like wings made of midnight and sharpened wrath.
He glanced at Riven once — brief, intense, certain.
"You're ready."
Riven swallowed. "I don't know what I'm doing."
"You don't need to know," Azael said. "You only need to feel."
The Executioners raised their spears as one.
Azael lowered his stance.
Riven's heartbeat surged.
"Stay close," Azael murmured. "Fight with me. Not behind me."
The words struck deeper than any command.
Riven nodded.
The Executioners charged.
Azael moved first — a flash of darkness cutting through their ranks like a blade sliding through water. His shadows lashed out, intercepting spears, blocking blows, driving the first wave back.
Riven followed instinctively, his aura flaring with every step.
An Executioner swung its spear toward him.
Riven lifted his arm—
Light erupted.
A concussive blast sent the armored figure flying across the chamber, smashing into the stone wall hard enough to crack it.
Riven stared at his hands, breath shaking.
"I didn't mean to—"
"You didn't mean to hold back," Azael said sharply. "Good."
Three more Executioners advanced. Their armor burned brighter, the runes shifting, adapting to Riven's aura.
One thrust its spear toward his chest.
Azael's shadow wing intercepted the blow, but the force pushed him back a step.
"Tch… they're evolving faster than I thought."
Riven's chest tightened. "Then what do we do?"
Azael grabbed his wrist, pulling Riven close enough that the world narrowed to silver eyes and burning determination.
"We fight as one."
The shadows around them stirred violently, rising like a hurricane trapped in a small room.
"Your power seeks mine," Azael murmured. "Let it."
Riven didn't know how — but the moment Azael's hand tightened around his wrist, something inside him clicked.
Light and shadow collided.
Merged.
Synced.
A shockwave rippled outward, sweeping through the chamber with a hum like a thousand ancient voices waking at once.
The Executioners staggered.
Azael exhaled a low, satisfied breath. "There. That's it."
Riven felt it too — the connection.
A thread between them.
A pull.
A merging of strength that felt both terrifying and familiar.
Like he had done this before.
Like he had done this… with Azael.
The nearest Executioners raised their spears again, red cracks glowing along the stone floor.
Azael spoke a single command:
"Riven—strike."
Riven didn't think.
He answered.
He thrust both hands forward — and black-gold energy surged outward in a spiraling blast, the shadows from Azael's wings weaving through the light like living serpents.
The force hit the Executioners with impossible speed.
Their armor tore open.
Their runes flickered—
And three of them shattered into dust.
The remaining Executioners paused, recalculating the threat.
Riven was breathing hard, adrenaline boiling beneath his skin, but he felt alive. Every heartbeat carried power, memory, instinct.
Azael stepped in front of him again, but not to shield him — to stand with him.
"You are remembering faster," Azael murmured. "Your past self would be… proud."
Riven swallowed. "I keep seeing flashes. Fire. A ruined city. And… your face."
Azael's eyes flickered briefly, almost vulnerable.
"Then the bond is resurfacing."
Before Riven could ask what that meant, a deep metallic thrum echoed through the chamber — the Executioner commander stepped forward, its armor glowing a harsh crimson, spear now burning with black fire.
Azael stiffened.
"That one isn't like the others."
The commander raised its spear slowly, deliberately.
Riven's mark pulsed — violently.
His vision blurred.
The room twisted.
Suddenly he heard a voice — not Azael's, not the Executioners', not his—
> "You were the flame they feared, Eternal One."
"And the shadow they could never kill."
"Awaken… and burn the world again."
Riven clutched his head, staggering.
Azael caught him instantly, steadying him, his voice low but commanding.
"Riven. Look at me."
Riven forced his eyes up.
Silver.
Sharp.
Certain.
"You're safe," Azael said. "With me. Focus."
Riven exhaled shakily — and the overwhelming rush of memory steadied.
The Executioner commander charged.
Azael pushed Riven behind him, meeting the commander head-on. Their weapons — spear and shadow — clashed with an explosion of red and black.
Riven watched, panic clawing at him.
The commander was stronger.
Its blows heavier.
Its armor unbroken by previous attacks.
Azael fought fiercely, beautifully — but even he was being forced back.
Riven felt something snap inside him.
"I'm not watching you fall."
His aura flared.
His eyes burned gold and black.
His power surged in a tidal wave that roared through his veins.
He lifted his hand—and the shadows obeyed him instantly.
Dozens of tendrils rose from the floor, the walls, even from the cracks in the stone. They wrapped around the Executioner commander's arms, legs, chest.
The commander struggled, runes flashing violently—
Riven tightened his fist.
The shadows constricted.
Azael stepped beside him, breathless, a faint smirk touching his lips.
"Well done."
The commander roared — a deep, bone-shaking sound — and the runes along its armor began to overheat.
Azael's expression darkened.
"It's going to self-detonate."
Riven's eyes widened. "What do we do—?"
Azael grabbed Riven's waist.
Shadows wrapped around them both.
"Hold on."
The commander exploded.
The world vanished into black smoke and scattering red light.
Azael's shadows shielded them, curling around Riven like a protective cocoon until the explosion faded.
When the dust settled, the sanctum was cracked, smoking, and half-ruined — but Riven and Azael stood unharmed at its center.
Riven's breath trembled.
"That… could've killed us."
Azael didn't release him.
"Not while I am here."
Their closeness hit Riven then — Azael's hand gripping his waist, their bodies almost pressed together, the fading glow of Riven's power illuminating Azael's sharp, beautiful features.
Riven's heartbeat stuttered.
Azael didn't look away.
"Your awakening has begun," he murmured.
"And the world will feel it."
Before Riven could answer, the shadows rippled at the far end of the sanctum.
Someone — or something — was approaching.
Azael's grip tightened.
"It seems," he said softly, "that our night isn't finished."