Riven's hand was pinned down by a sword that had driven halfway through his hand into the forest floor. His vision went white with blinding pain, and his body spasmed. He cried out, his eyes stinging with tears, and made the mistake of trying to yank his hand away.
He screamed again, and the man laughed, clapping and hooting as if he was watching a show. "You lowlifes are funny. We should have done this instead of just killing all of you."
Riven had no breath to answer or even form a thought. He blanked out for some moments that couldn't have been more than seconds because when he regained consciousness, he was still in the same position.
He was breathing hard, his body covered in sweat.
Suddenly, a shadow loomed above him. It was the man, and he smiled down at him. "Let me properly introduce myself. I am Vaelith from the Brotherhood of the Unholy Night. And what's your name?"
"Don't tell me. I don't like to name the dead. So how about we play a game? I'll be honest with you. I'm going to kill your sister, but you can stop that. Right now, she's been shocked senseless, but with a good healer, she can be alright again," Vaelith said.
Riven froze like an animal caught in a hunter's trap. He didn't trust Vaelith. The man was sick and twisted. But he wanted to save his sister if he could. No, he needed to save her. He gritted his teeth and tried to push the pain away, but his hand throbbed with every beat of his heart, creating a splitting headache.
"What do I need to do?" His voice was rough and raw, layered with pain and anger he didn't dare express.
Vaelith smiled like a spider closing in on its prey. "Nothing much. I will try to kill your sister, and all you must do is try to save her. I will try to kill her slowly so you can have time to remove the sword from your hand. Remember, the sword must be removed from your hand, not the ground."
"That's it?" Riven asked, a mixture of fear and surprise in his voice.
Vaelith shrugged and began to walk backward to his original position. "That's it."
Then he spread his hands, and his aura spread out, a taint of green that carried the cold of the grave. The severed hands of Ysmera twitched, then shuddered to life, then skittered like spiders toward her.
The shock of seeing her own hands walk toward her was too much for her mind, and she flinched, screaming as she tried to get away. But the hands flew at her and clamped around her throat, trying to squeeze the life out of her.
"The game starts now."
Riven hesitated. He couldn't help it. His body remembered the pain. But then he heard the choking sounds coming from his sister, and his hesitation melted away.
He cursed and shouted, spit falling from his mouth as he tried to pull the sword, but it was lodged deep in his bones. He gritted his teeth, grinding them together. Pain filled every part of his body, different shades of pain, and he began to sob at the sheer frustration of it.
This wouldn't have happened if he was an Aura practitioner. He would have the strength to remove the sword and not slow his sister down as they made their escape. He knew he was unlucky, but could he, just this once, get the luck to pull the sword and save his sister?
But strength wasn't something that could be cultivated by luck.
The sword was stuck too deep in his bones, and there was no way he could ever hope to pull it out in time. But he was Riven, and what he lacked in strength and luck, he made up for in quick thinking.
He stopped pulling and instead used his left hand to secure the sword more firmly into the ground. Then, cursing and crying with snot and tears running down his cheeks, he began to yank his hand free from the sword.
Vaelith, who was watching from the side, was visibly shocked. He had never seen anything like that before. The game was one where the boy was supposed to fail, but he was actually trying to remove it? Even going as far as to rip his hand free?
It scared Vaelith in a way he couldn't quite understand. But then he frowned. What could he do? They were nothing more than squeaking rats in front of him.
Riven didn't know where one pain began and another started. It was never-ending, but finally, he was rewarded with a loud crack as his hand was ripped free. Blood gushed, and the only thing connecting his hand was a thin strip of flesh.
He laughed and swayed toward his sister, his purple eyes feverish. "I did it! I did it, Ysmera!"
He sobbed and collapsed beside her. The hands fell away from her neck, leaving behind a vivid red mark. She gasped for breath, her face swollen, but Riven was just laughing because she was alive, and that was all that mattered. Everything else would come later.
Vaelith clapped for them. "What a touching story you guys are painting. You should look for work as crippled artists. I'm sure they've never seen your types before."
He gestured, and his sword came to him, already clean of Riven's blood. "As much as I would love to wait here and watch you two, I'm afraid I have to kill you now. You've wasted my time."
"What?" Riven asked. He frowned slightly, as if he couldn't hear properly.
But Vaelith didn't repeat himself. His shadow turned into a pool, and undead monsters came out. Snakes with horns and yellow scales, dozens of them crawled out of the dark pool and surged toward them without hesitation.
Everything slowed down around Riven. The unjustified cruelty, the awareness that Vaelith thought their lives were nothing but a game, it was too much, and he snapped.
He threw himself at the monsters, waving both hands, the injured and the normal. He screamed as they swarmed over and around him, fangs lashing out and sinking into soft flesh, pumping poison into him.
He turned to his sister and saw her go down under the wave of snakes. She didn't even try to fight back as they killed her.
Riven fought back. He bit down on a monster that bit him and tore into it with his mouth, ripping its head clean off. But his body was already numb, and he fell.
He instinctively sucked in a deep breath, but it wasn't air that he pulled, it was the aura of the undead monster he had just killed.
For the first time in his life, Riven was able to absorb an aura. The shock didn't fully register as he died.