The blink in the sky didn't return.
But Riven couldn't stop thinking about it.
It hadn't flickered like a star.
It had looked.
Not with light.
With memory.
---
Two days passed under "Observation Protocol."
His classes resumed. His meals were scheduled.
But now, two invisible things followed him everywhere:
The cuff on his wrist.
And the shard inside his chest.
One tracked his movements.
The other tracked his soul.
---
[Emotional Arsenal: Tier 1 – Active]
[Aspect: Sorrow]
[Stability: 63%]
[Residual Signal Detected – Unlinked Fragment Nearby]
The last line was new.
It hadn't been there before.
---
Instructor Kael watched from behind a reflective console as Riven entered Observation Suite C — a chamber shaped like a broken gear, its walls lined with paneled memories from others who'd come before.
"You're syncing faster," Kael said, no preamble.
Riven didn't answer.
He looked at the wall.
One panel was glowing — faint crimson this time.
Not gold.
[Unlinked Anchor – Class: ??? – Emotion: ??? – Sync: 4%]
Kael raised an eyebrow.
"That's not your shard," he said. "Not yet."
"What is it?"
Kael's gaze didn't waver.
"Something that's been waiting longer than you."
---
Lyra met him outside the suite. She was wearing her hood again — the one she never wore before the breach.
Her eyes had shadows under them.
"Still breathing?" she asked.
"Barely."
"Same."
Her laugh was thin, almost dry.
"Do you… feel different?" she asked.
He nodded slowly.
"I think something in the world is bending around me."
She stared at him for a long time.
Then said:
"I think something in me is bending, too."
---
They walked the skybridge toward Dorm Tower Five — the top level closed for renovations, according to the academy. But Riven had seen workers enter and never come back out.
As they passed, his shard pulsed once.
And then again.
[Warning – Emotion Arsenal Response Layer Interference]
[New Anchor Detected – Sync: 8% – Classification: Crimson]
He stopped.
The door to the top floor buzzed open.
No one had touched it.
---
"Riven..." Lyra whispered, but he was already moving.
They stepped inside.
No alarms.
No guards.
No cameras.
Just a long hallway of black glass and frost-lined walls. The temperature dropped with every step.
In the distance, a heartbeat pounded — not loud, but heavy. Like footsteps in the walls.
The hallway ended at a circular room.
A mirror chamber.
No furniture.
No lights.
Except for one object in the center:
A red crystal floating above the ground — cracked, humming, and leaking strands of emotional fire.
---
He stepped closer.
The shard inside his chest pulsed violently.
[Anchor Clash Detected – Sorrow vs ???]
[Stability Dropping – 49%]
[Aspect Interference: Wrath, Fragmented]
And then the red crystal spoke — not in sound, but through memory.
> "You left us burning."
> "You chose sorrow. We chose fire."
---
Riven fell to one knee.
Blood dripped from his nose.
Lyra grabbed his shoulder, panic flaring in her voice.
"What's happening?!"
The room shook.
Glass cracked around the perimeter. The red light surged — flooding the space like a rising tide of fury held just beneath the surface.
And the voice came again.
> "The world forgot Elyon…"
> "But we never did."
---
The fire struck his mind.
Images poured in.
A woman screaming as cities fell.
A man standing alone in a palace of ash.
A child abandoned at birth… who set his village ablaze just to be noticed.
Memories.
Not his.
But maybe… soon.
---
The crystal exploded.
Not with sound.
With pressure.
Lyra pulled him back as the chamber walls imploded inward, folding into themselves. The fire vanished — as if it had only existed in the moment of its own death.
Only silence remained.
Except for one thing.
On the floor where the crystal had floated, a new line burned itself into the glass:
> "Blood doesn't forget."
---
Back in his dorm that night, Riven stared at his Arsenal interface for an hour.
Then the system updated again.
[Anchor Recognition Expanded]
[Aspect Arsenal Tree: Sorrow – Active | Wrath – Dormant]
[User: Elyon | Status: Incomplete]
---
He looked at himself in the mirror.
His eyes shimmered — not fully gold.
Not fully brown.
But somewhere in between.
And in the reflection, behind his own image...
...stood a version of himself that smiled like a god who remembered burning everything.
---
End of Chapter Eleven