All Riven could hear and see was the promise of power that hung in front of him. The shadow spoke the language of the dead that tasted like raw iron and smelled of damp places.
He jerked forward as if he was under control, and as he got closer, so did the shadow. It was when he got so close that he noticed the shadow wasn't just a shadow. It was a person wearing a shadow.
And the hand was holding something to the side.
It was that thing the shadow was holding that drew his attention.
It was a book. He knew it was, but just like the man, it was covered in a thin layer of flickering darkness. The man reached out with the book, and without a second thought, Riven stretched out his hand to collect it.
But just as his hand was about to reach it, the shadow's right hand shot forward, and something jabbed Riven painfully. He recoiled, and whatever force was holding him fell away.
"What the..."
