Riven didn't remember walking out of the breach.
One moment he was standing in the silence where the Sorrowborn had vanished — the golden shard still burning faintly in his chest — and the next, he was sitting on a bench outside the infirmary, boots still caked in dust, vision swimming in and out of static.
The world hadn't changed.
But it looked… thinner.
Like a stage set too long under the lights.
---
Vex stood ten meters away, back turned, muttering into her comm-tab. Her posture was stiff, shoulders squared, but her voice trembled.
"No, I don't know what it was. It bowed. Yes, to him."
A pause.
"No, I'm not compromised. I'm requesting immediate full psychological screening — for both of us."
Another pause.
Then quieter:
"He didn't flinch when it dissolved. Didn't even blink."
---
Riven closed his eyes.
Inside his chest, the shard pulsed once — not painfully, but with weight. Like a heartbeat that wasn't his.
[Emotion Arsenal: Sorrow – Tier 1 Active]
[Current Stability: 72%]
He exhaled through his nose.
*Keep it buried.*
The last time something inside him had tried to rise, a fellow student had nearly drowned in a simulation of her own childhood trauma.
He didn't know what would happen if he lost control now — in reality.
---
A chime rang at his wrist. Message alert.
Encrypted.
He tapped it open without looking.
Sender: [Restricted Access]
Message:
"We saw what bowed. We remember what it meant. You are not alone. — O.A."
Riven blinked.
O.A.?
There was no contact on the student network by that name. Not admin. Not tech. Not military.
Just… O.A.
A whisper from a side of the world he hadn't realized was watching.
---
"You're clear."
Vex's voice cut through his thoughts.
She'd walked closer now, arms folded tight, face unreadable.
"No damage. No contamination. You're lucky." Her eyes narrowed slightly. "Or maybe you knew exactly what you were doing."
Riven didn't answer.
Vex stepped forward, just a bit too close.
"I ran your telemetry. Emotional spikes. Neural drift. Synchronicity with Class-X psychic anomalies."
A pause.
"I should report you as unstable."
"You won't," Riven said quietly.
"And why's that?"
"Because something bowed to me… and nothing touched you."
Vex froze.
For a second, she looked like she might strike him.
Instead, she stepped back.
"That thing may be gone, but something followed us out."
Riven looked up, brow tense.
"What?"
She shook her head.
"I don't know. I just know the breach closed too quietly."
---
Two hours later, Riven stood alone in the central transit ring, waiting for the platform to cycle. The sky above was dark, not with clouds — but blank. No stars. Just smooth black as if the world hadn't finished rendering.
He rubbed his temples.
The shard inside him still pulsed, faint and rhythmic. But now, it had started echoing — like it was calling something back.
Or calling something in.
---
Behind him, someone cleared their throat.
Riven turned.
Kael Dross stood there.
Still. Calm. Eyes sharper than usual.
"You opened a door you weren't supposed to," Kael said softly.
Riven said nothing.
Kael walked forward, hands behind his back. He looked more like a historian than an instructor — except for his eyes. They didn't blink like human ones.
They processed.
"Tell me what it said."
"What what said?"
Kael stared at him a long moment.
Then smiled faintly.
"The shard."
---
Riven's blood went cold.
"You know?"
Kael nodded.
"I remember what the world was like before it forgot you."
---
Before Riven could respond, the platform chimed.
Transit arriving.
Kael turned without another word.
As the door opened and light flooded in, Riven looked down at his reflection in the glass floor.
For a moment, the eyes looking back weren't brown.
They were gold.
And crying.