Aelwyn buried his fear before it could reach his face.
The name still echoed through his mind.
The Crimson Brand.
He had seen references to it before—scattered through ruined texts, buried beneath warnings written by men who had gone mad trying to understand it.
Yet he remembered too little and feared too much to speak carelessly.
Not here.
Not in front of everyone.
And certainly not before he knew exactly what the mark meant for Riven.
Aelwyn took one final look at the young Soulmancer.
Riven stood among the others, seemingly unaware of the danger resting beneath his clothing.
The faint crimson glow had already faded, but Aelwyn could still picture the Brand clearly: that unnatural line cutting diagonally across his body like a wound that had never truly closed.
He needed silence.
He needed the memories stored within the Vanguard.
Before anyone could notice his unease, Aelwyn’s physical form collapsed into a swirling cluster of blue light.
The glow drew inward, brightening for a heartbeat, then shot across the room.
Riven barely had time to react before the light struck his chest.
A cool pulse passed through his body as Aelwyn vanished into the Vanguard.
Riven placed a hand over the mark beneath his shirt.
“Aelwyn?”
There was no response.
His brow furrowed.
The old spirit had returned to the Vanguard without warning before, but rarely so abruptly.
Usually, Aelwyn found some reason to announce his departure, often accompanied by a complaint about his age, everyone else’s ignorance, or both.
This time, there had been nothing.
Javon stared at Riven’s chest.
“Why did the old man just disappear inside you?”
Riven glanced down at himself as though the answer might be written across his shirt.
“I… don’t know.”
“That is not reassuring.”
“He didn’t say anything.”
Javon tilted his head and continued staring.
“So he is just sitting in there now?”
“I suppose.”
Aisling’s attention shifted away from Vistara.
The excitement that had filled her moments earlier softened into curiosity as she approached Riven.
Unlike Javon, she did not seem disturbed by Aelwyn’s disappearance.
As a spirit herself, she recognized what had happened.
What confused her was where he had gone.
“Are you a Soulmancer?”
Riven looked at her, surprised that she knew the name of his class.
“Yes.”
“That was your Vanguard?”
“Yes.”
Aisling’s gaze settled on the center of his chest.
“I have heard of spirits being bound to weapons, relics, and places,” she said.
“I have even known spirits who attached themselves to bloodlines. But I have never seen one enter a living soul so easily.”
“I’m still learning how it works.”
“You carry him inside your soul?”
“Apparently.”
Javon folded his arms.
“He carries an old man around in his chest.”
Aisling turned toward him slowly.
“He is a spirit.”
“I know.”
“Then why would you describe it like that?”
“Because it sounds funnier.”
Aisling studied him with visible disapproval.
Javon held her gaze for a moment before looking back at Riven.
“She judges people quickly.”
“She has good instincts,” Vistara said.
Javon pressed a hand to his chest.
“I am wounded.”
Aisling ignored him and returned her attention to Riven.
“So the Vanguard keeps spirits connected to you?”
Riven nodded.
“They can rest there. Recover. I can call them out when I need them.”
“And you can draw on their strength?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“I don’t know yet.” Riven hesitated.
“Aelwyn says the bond grows stronger over time. Their abilities can strengthen me, and my Vyr can strengthen them.”
Aisling’s expression brightened with intrigue.
“So it is shared.”
“I think so.”
“Not ownership?”
Riven shook his head immediately.
“No. They choose to follow me.”
That answer seemed to satisfy her.
She stepped closer, studying the place where Aelwyn had vanished.
As a spirit, the idea of a sanctuary connected to a living soul seemed to capture her completely.
“Can they hear us from inside?”
“Sometimes.”
“Can they see through your eyes?”
“Sometimes.”
Aisling waited.
Riven waited with her.
Her brows rose.
“That is all you know?”
“For now.”
Javon leaned toward her.
“You are asking the wrong person.”
“I noticed.”
Riven gave both of them a flat look.
Aisling’s mouth twitched.
“Wait,” Riven said.
“If you know what my class is, shouldn’t you know more about it than I do?”
“Not much more.” Aisling’s gaze drifted as if she were searching an old memory.
“I knew a Soulmancer when I was alive. She never explained her abilities, but I saw what she could do. She commanded animal spirits—wolves, birds, even something that resembled a stag made of mist.”
Riven’s attention sharpened.
“She had an army?”
“Eventually.”
Javon smiled.
“See? Army.”
Riven ignored him.
“How many spirits are bound to you?” Aisling asked.
Riven’s expression shifted.
It was slight, only a lowering of his eyes, but Vistara noticed.
“Two.”
Aisling blinked.
“Only two?”
Javon lifted a finger.
“It is a highly selective army.”
Riven gave him a tired look.
“There’s Aelwyn, who you just met.”
“And the other?”
Riven hesitated.
“Raku.”
Recognition brightened Aisling’s face instantly.
“Raku is one of your spirits? I thought you were a child of his?”
Riven nodded.
A warm smile spread across her features.
“That makes sense though. He spoke about you constantly.”
Riven looked at her.
“How exactly do you know Raku?” Asked Riven
Aisling only smiles.
“He tried to make it sound as though serving you was merely a duty, but anyone who knows him could tell it was more than that. He was proud of you.”
Riven’s gaze dropped.
Aisling’s smile remained as she glanced toward the doorway.
“Speaking of Raku, where is he?”
No one answered.
She looked toward the corners of the room, expecting the armored spirit to emerge from the shadows.
“He said he would never stray far from you,” she continued.
“So if you are here…”
Her voice faded.
Riven remained silent.
Aisling searched the room again, more carefully this time.
“Raku?”
The name carried through the chamber and died against the walls.
Nothing responded.
Her smile slowly disappeared.
As a spirit, Aisling could usually recognize the presence of another soul.
Raku’s essence had always been unmistakable—steady, powerful, and difficult to overlook.
Now she could barely sense him at all.
Only the faintest pressure rested somewhere beyond Riven’s flesh, hidden behind a bond she could not see through.
Aisling’s eyes narrowed.
“He’s inside you.”
Riven nodded.
“Then summon him.”
His jaw tightened.
“I can’t.”
Aisling stared at him.
“What do you mean, you can’t?”
“He isn’t strong enough to manifest.”
The curiosity vanished from her face.
She stepped closer.
“What happened to him?”
Riven looked away.
Vistara’s expression softened.
Javon became unusually quiet.
Aisling noticed both reactions.
Her voice lowered.
“Riven.”
“He protected me.”
The answer did little to ease her concern.
“From what?”
Riven’s fingers curled against his palms.
“Lucifer.”
Aisling went completely still.
For several seconds, the only sound in the room was the faint crackling of the fire.
“He fought Lucifer?” Her voice rose sharply.
“What the fuck was wrong with him?”
“He stood between us.”
Aisling shook her head, disbelief giving way to anger.
“Of course he did.” The source of this chapter is g.com.
Riven looked at her.
“That stubborn fool,” she muttered.
“He always believed throwing himself in front of danger was the same thing as protecting someone.”
“He saved my life.”
“And nearly destroyed himself doing it.”
The words came out sharper than she intended.
Riven lowered his head.
Aisling saw the guilt in his face, and some of the anger left her.
“How badly is he hurt?”
Riven placed a hand against his chest.
“Aelwyn says his essence is still intact. But barely. He can’t speak to me. He can’t manifest. I don’t even know if he can hear us.”
Aisling approached more cautiously.
“May I?”
Riven understood what she meant and nodded.
She placed her palm lightly against his chest.
The instant her hand touched him, her expression changed.
Her eyes closed.
From outside the bond, she could sense only the faint pressure of another spirit.
She could not see him.
She could not reach him.
But she pressed deeper, searching for anything that felt familiar.
For a long moment, there was nothing.
Then—
A flicker.
So faint it could have been imagined.
Aisling’s breath caught.
“Raku…”
No voice answered her.
No image formed.
Only a weak pulse beneath her palm.
Then another.
She lowered her forehead against Riven’s chest and held herself there.
“You are the most stubborn man I have ever known,” she whispered.
Riven watched her silently.
“He’s alive,” she said at last, though the words sounded as if she were saying them for herself.
“I can feel him.”
Riven’s face changed immediately.
The guilt remained, but something fragile appeared beneath it.
Hope.
“Can you tell how badly he’s hurt?”
Aisling kept her eyes closed.
“No.” Her brow tightened.
“He has withdrawn too deeply. I can feel his essence, but I cannot see what condition it is in.”
Riven swallowed.
“What do I do?”
“Give him time. Give him strength when you can. And do not force him to manifest unless there is absolutely no other choice.”
Riven nodded.
Aisling kept her hand against his chest a moment longer.
“When he wakes,” she said, “tell him I intend to strike him.”
Javon raised an eyebrow.
“That is your message?”
“He will understand.”
A faint smile finally touched Riven’s face.
“I’ll tell him.”
Aisling stepped back, but her attention remained fixed on the Vanguard.
The relief in her expression could not completely hide her fear.
Raku was alive.
For now, that was enough.
Vistara glanced between Aisling and Riven before asking the question that had been sitting quietly beneath the conversation.
“Does this mean you’re coming with us?”
Aisling looked toward her.
Vistara hesitated.
“Are you going to join Riven’s army?”
The word army caused one of Riven’s eyebrows to rise.
“It still feels generous to call it that.”
Javon folded his arms.
“Every great army begins somewhere.”
“With two people?”
“Two spirits,” Javon corrected.
“That sounds more impressive.”
Aisling did not answer immediately.
Her eyes returned to Riven.
For several moments, she studied him.
Not the hidden Vanguard.
Not the mark beneath his shirt.
Him.
This was the young man Raku had chosen to follow.
The one he had spoken of with such stubborn devotion.
The one he had nearly destroyed himself to protect.
Whenever Riven’s name came up, Raku’s entire demeanor had changed.
His posture became straighter.
His voice carried a pride he seemed incapable of hiding.
He had never spoken of Riven as a burden.
Never as an obligation.
He had spoken of him as someone worth believing in.
Aisling released a quiet breath.
“Someone has to make sure Raku’s master doesn’t get himself killed.”
Riven’s expression tightened.
“I don’t need someone watching over me.”
Aisling gave him a level look.
“Raku is barely able to hold his essence together because he protected you from Lucifer.”
Riven opened his mouth.
Nothing came out.
Aisling tilted her head.
“That suggests you may need more watching than you believe.”
Javon pressed his lips together, failing to hide his amusement.
Riven noticed.
“Don’t.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were about to.”
“I was thinking supportively.”
Vistara shook her head, though a faint smile touched her lips.
Aisling’s expression softened.
“Besides, Raku would never forgive me if I allowed something to happen to you while he was unable to protect you himself.”
Her gaze drifted toward Riven’s chest.
The humor left her voice.
“He would probably find some way to drag himself out of the Vanguard just to lecture me.”
Riven looked down.
Despite everything, he could almost picture it—Raku forcing his damaged form to manifest through sheer stubbornness, only to kneel before Riven and apologize for taking too long.
The thought warmed him.
Then the warmth became pain.
Aisling seemed to notice.
“There is another reason,” she said.
Riven lifted his eyes.
She glanced around the chamber—the same walls, the same corners, the same place that had contained her for longer than she cared to admit.
“I have remained here long enough,” she said quietly.
“I have watched the living pass through while I stayed behind. I told myself I was waiting for a reason to leave.”
Her gaze returned to him.
“Perhaps this is it.”
The room fell silent.
Aisling straightened.
The easy curiosity she had carried earlier disappeared.
Her shoulders settled, and her expression became solemn.
For the first time, Riven saw the warrior beneath her lighter demeanor.
She placed one hand over the center of her chest and lowered her head.
“Riven, will you accept this Sky Shot into your Vanguard?”
Even Javon understood that this was no longer a moment for jokes.
Riven stared at her.
He had accepted spirits before, but the weight of the request still felt unfamiliar.
A Vanguard was not merely a place where spirits waited to be summoned.
It was a bond.
A connection between souls.
Once formed, it allowed a spirit to rest within him, draw from his Vyr, and lend him strength in return.
It also meant placing an extraordinary amount of trust in one another.
Aisling was offering him more than her ability.
She was placing what remained of her existence in his care.
Riven glanced toward Vistara.
She watched him quietly, allowing him to decide for himself.
His gaze moved to Javon, whose expression had become unusually serious.
Then Riven looked back at Aisling.
“Are you sure?”
Aisling raised her head.
“If I were not, I would not have asked.”
“You barely know me.”
“I know Raku.”
The answer came without hesitation.
“And Raku trusted you enough to risk everything.”
Riven’s jaw tightened.
“That does not mean you have to.”
“No,” Aisling agreed.
“It means I am willing to.”
Riven searched her expression for uncertainty.
There was sadness.
Concern.
Perhaps even fear.
But there was no hesitation.
He nodded.
“I accept you into my Vanguard.”
The words settled over the room.
For an instant, nothing happened.
Then a faint blue radiance gathered beneath Aisling’s skin.
It began around her hands, spilling between her fingers in thin streams of light.
The glow traveled slowly up her arms and across her shoulders.
Her outline softened as if her form were becoming difficult for the world to hold.
Strands of pale-blue energy lifted from her body and drifted through the air like sparks carried by a wind no one else could feel.
Aisling looked down at herself.
A small smile touched her face.
“So that’s what it feels like.”
Something answered inside Riven.
The Vanguard stirred.
It felt as though a door had opened somewhere inside his soul.
Aisling’s body dissolved further. The source of this chapter is g.com.
Her legs vanished first, collapsing into streams of light.
Her torso followed, then her shoulders, until only her face remained.
She held Riven’s gaze until the last possible moment.
Then she disappeared completely.
A single blue orb hovered where she had been.
It pulsed once.
Twice.
Then shot toward Riven.
The light entered the center of his chest without resistance.
Riven inhaled sharply.
A cool sensation spread through him, unlike the aged, steady presence he associated with Aelwyn or the heavy warmth that belonged to Raku.
Aisling felt lighter.
Sharper.
Like wind passing over the edge of an arrowhead.
For one brief instant, Riven became aware of all three spirits within him.
Aelwyn remained distant.
His presence moved restlessly through a part of the Vanguard Riven could not reach, as though he were searching through memories too old to name.
Raku was barely there at all—a weak but persistent ember buried deep inside.
And now Aisling stood at the threshold.
Riven closed his eyes.
He could not see the Vanguard clearly, but he could feel her moving through it.
Her curiosity.
Her uncertainty.
Then everything inside him went still.
A sudden wave of emotion passed through the bond.
Grief.
Riven’s eyes snapped open.
The blue orb burst from his chest almost immediately.
It floated several feet away before expanding.
Light unfolded into arms, legs, and flowing hair until Aisling stood before them once more.
The transformation ended so quickly that Javon stepped backward.
“That was brief.”
Aisling did not answer.
Her back remained turned to Riven.
The glow surrounding her had dimmed, and her shoulders were drawn tighter than before.
Riven already knew why.
“You saw him.”
Aisling lowered her head.
She had entered the Vanguard expecting darkness, perhaps silence.
Instead, she had found Raku.
Or what remained of his manifested presence.
His essence had curled inward upon itself, too weak to form a proper body.
There had been no armor.
No commanding voice.
None of the strength she remembered.
Only a wounded spirit struggling to remain whole.
“I’m going to stay out here,” she said quietly.
No one spoke.
Aisling drew in a breath she did not truly need.
“I can’t see Raku like that.”
Her voice nearly broke on his name.
Riven watched her carefully.
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.”
She turned slightly, though she still did not look at him.
“He would hate being seen in that condition.”
A bitter smile appeared and vanished.
“He always wanted everyone to believe nothing could bring him to his knees.”
Riven lowered his gaze.
“And now he cannot even stand.”
The silence that followed felt heavier than the last.
Vistara moved beside Aisling but did not touch her.
“He’ll recover.”
Aisling looked at her.
Vistara did not pretend to know how long it would take.
She did not promise that everything would return to the way it had been.
She repeated only what mattered.
“He will.”
Aisling searched her face before giving a small nod.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“He will.”
When she turned back, she found everyone watching her.
Riven’s concern.
Vistara’s sympathy.
Javon’s poorly hidden curiosity.
Even Syanna, standing farther away, seemed to be studying her with quiet interest.
Aisling suddenly became aware of how exposed she felt.
She straightened and cleared her throat.
“Ahem.”
The sound was far louder than necessary.
Javon raised an eyebrow.
Aisling ignored him.
“So,” she said, forcing some of her earlier energy back into her voice, “do you even know what your abilities are?”
Riven blinked at the abrupt change.
“My abilities?”
“Yes. Beyond collecting spirits and calling it an army.”
“I do not call it an army.”
“Javon does.”
“That should tell you something.”
“It tells me he enjoys the word.”
Javon nodded.
“I do.”
Aisling looked back at Riven.
“You said you can command spirits and draw power from them. What else can you do?”
Riven considered the question.
“I can summon them.”
“We established that.”
“I can return them to the Vanguard.”
“Also established.”
“I can feel when something is wrong with them.”
Aisling’s eyes briefly darkened, but she concealed it.
“And?”
Riven hesitated.
“That is most of what I know.”
Aisling stared at him.
“You are a Soulmancer.”
“So I have been told.”
“One of the rarest known Vyr classes.”
“That is also what I have been told.”
“And no one has taught you what it means?”
“Aelwyn has tried.”
From somewhere inside the Vanguard, Riven felt a faint pulse of annoyance.
He paused.
“I think he heard that.”
“Good,” Aisling said.
“Perhaps it will encourage him to explain things properly.”
Riven almost smiled.
Aisling folded her arms and looked him over again.
Her gaze moved from his face to his shoulders, then down along his arms.
The distraction she had created for herself gave way to genuine curiosity.
She stepped closer.
“Where is it?”
Riven frowned.
“Where is what?”
“Your crest.”
Riven glanced down at himself.
“My crest?”
“Yes.”
Aisling looked at his right arm, then his left.
She circled him once, examining his shoulders, wrists, and the backs of his hands.
Riven remained still, though his confusion deepened with every step.
“Last I heard,” Aisling said, “every Soulmancer possesses a unique crest. It appears when their power awakens.”
Vistara looked toward Riven.
“What kind of crest?”
“A mark tied to the Soulmancer’s identity,” Aisling explained.
“No two are exactly alike. Its shape is said to reflect the nature of the Soulmancer and the spirits they are capable of commanding.”
Riven’s attention sharpened.
“No one told me that.”
Aisling stopped in front of him.
“I am beginning to realize that no one has told you much of anything.”
Riven placed a hand against his chest.
For one uneasy moment, his thoughts went to the Crimson Brand.
But Aisling had said a crest appeared when a Soulmancer awakened.
The Brand had been given to him by Lucifer.
They could not be the same thing.
Could they?
Aisling noticed where his hand had gone.
“Is it beneath your shirt?”
Riven’s fingers stiffened.
“No.”
The answer came too quickly.
Vistara looked at him.
Aisling did as well.
Riven slowly lowered his hand.
“I have never seen a crest.”
Aisling’s brow furrowed.
“That should not be possible.”
“Why?”
“Because the crest is not decorative. It is proof of the bond between the Soulmancer and the Vanguard.” She glanced at his chest again.
“If you can carry spirits, summon them, and draw upon their power, then your crest should have appeared already.”
Warmth stirred beneath Riven’s clothing.
Not blue.
Not the calm glow of the Vanguard.
Crimson.
The scar pulsed once in answer.
Riven’s expression remained still, but Vistara saw his fingers curl at his side.
Aisling stepped closer, intrigue replacing the grief she had been trying to escape.
“So where is it?”
Riven had no answer.
Deep inside the Vanguard, Aelwyn continued searching.
And somehow, his silence disturbed Riven more than any answer could have.