The chamber shuddered again—dust falling like ash, the walls groaning under the pressure of too many ancient powers gathered in one place.
Riven's pulse hammered in his ears.
Azael stood in front of him, wings arched wide, shadows sharpened like blades.
A silent vow:
You will not touch him.
The intruder only smiled, golden eyes gleaming with a heat that felt too familiar—
and far too dangerous.
He spread his hands slowly.
"Riven. Eternal One. Tell me… do you truly not remember my name?"
Riven's jaw clenched as flickers of memory pressed against his mind.
A throne room covered in obsidian.
A man standing beside him.
A voice whispering,
"You were born for destruction. Let me guide you."
And then—
blood.
Azael's voice shouting his warning.
A betrayal.
Riven swallowed hard.
"You… were one of us."
The golden-eyed man smirked. "More than that."
Azael hissed, quiet and lethal. "Don't listen to him."
The man ignored Azael and stepped forward, his aura rippling through the chamber like a slow-moving storm.
"When you shattered worlds," he murmured, "I stood at your side. When armies bowed to you, they bowed to me. When you broke the heavens open—"
Riven flinched as a sharp memory stabbed through his skull—
himself standing over a battlefield of falling stars, someone at his right side, eyes burning gold.
"—I was there," the man finished softly.
"Your second."
Riven's breath caught.
Second.
The word tasted like something forbidden.
Azael moved instantly, fury snapping through him. "He was never your second."
The golden-eyed stranger laughed—low, amused, cruel.
"Oh, Azael. Always so protective. Always pretending you didn't kneel for him as well."
Azael's wings snapped forward, shadows tightening.
"I knelt for him—
not you."
For the first time, irritation flickered across the stranger's face.
"Oh, I see. You're still clinging to that old delusion."
A pulse of energy rolled off him, brushing past Azael and slamming into Riven like a cold wave.
A familiar voice slid through Riven's mind—smooth, intimate, dangerous:
"You belonged to no one but me."
Riven's fingers twitched. The mark burned.
"I didn't belong to you," he whispered through clenched teeth.
The stranger smiled, dark amusement curling at the edges.
"You did. And you will again."
Azael lunged.
Shadows arced like blades.
The stranger flicked his wrist—
—and Azael was thrown across the chamber, smashing into a fractured pillar.
"Azael!" Riven shouted, rushing forward—
—but the stranger appeared in front of him in less than a blink.
Too close.
Too familiar.
Too calm.
He reached out, fingers brushing the air near Riven's face but not touching.
"Riven… look at you," he murmured.
"Awakening again. Even more beautiful than before."
Riven froze, breath shaking.
Because beneath the fear—
beneath the anger—
something else stirred.
Recognition.
Ancient.
Deep.
A connection burned by centuries.
The stranger leaned in slightly.
"You feel it, don't you?"
Riven's heart pounded.
For one terrifying moment—
yes.
He did.
A bond from a past he didn't understand, pulling at him like gravity.
But then—
Azael's voice cut through the fog, rough and shaking:
"Riven… don't."
Riven turned.
Azael stood, blood at the corner of his mouth, wings dragging, but his eyes—
his eyes held something raw.
Fear.
Not for himself.
For Riven.
The stranger followed Riven's gaze and smiled with sharp satisfaction.
"Ah. So you remember him as well."
Azael's wings snapped out, shadows whipping violently.
"That's enough."
The stranger sighed. "Jealous as always."
Then he lifted a hand.
The air tightened—
and Riven felt an invisible pull around his mark, like something was trying to yank open the newly awakened part of him.
"No—!" Riven staggered, grabbing his chest as the mark blazed with agony.
The stranger's voice softened, almost affectionate.
"Stop fighting me. This is who you are. This is who we were."
Azael roared, shadows exploding around him as he launched forward—
—but the stranger caught Azael by the throat mid-attack, effortlessly, like catching a falling leaf.
Azael choked, wings flaring in pain.
Riven's panic spiked. "Let him go!"
The stranger tilted his head.
"Why? You never cared for him before."
Riven froze.
Azael's breath halted.
Something inside Riven cracked open—
a memory, a voice, a heat—
But it wasn't the stranger he saw in the memory.
It was Azael.
Kneeling.
Bleeding.
Refusing to leave him.
Refusing to betray him.
Refusing to abandon him even when the Eternal One walked in darkness.
Azael had been there.
Always.
Riven's pulse thundered.
He lifted his hand.
For the first time…
power obeyed him.
A shockwave burst outward, black-gold light ripping through the chamber.
The stranger released Azael instantly, stumbling back with surprise.
Riven's voice came out low, trembling with power and clarity:
"Touch him again…
and I will remember everything you fear."
The stranger's eyes widened—
then slowly, a grin spread across his face.
"Ah," he whispered.
"There you are."
Azael staggered toward Riven, wings trembling, eyes filled with disbelief at Riven's sudden surge of control.
Riven stepped beside him—
not behind him.
Not shielded.
But equal.
The stranger's smile faded into something colder.
"In that case," he said, lifting his hand as a swirling vortex of darkness formed behind him,
"let me show you what comes next."
The vortex roared open—
and dozens of shadowed silhouettes stepped through.
Armored.
Powerful.
Kneeling.
For him.
The stranger's voice echoed through the sanctum:
"Eternal One…
your army awaits."
Riven felt the pull of fate tighten around his throat.
Azael whispered, "Riven… don't listen—"
But it was too late.
The army bowed—
and the world shifted again.