Meanwhile, at the back of the cave.
Hidden against the rough stone wall sat a small wooden crate filled with neatly chopped firewood.
Some of the logs had darkened with age, while others still carried the fresh scent of pine.
He crouched beside it without a word, his fingers absentmindedly sorting through the pieces until he found several smaller logs that would catch easily.
The cave was quiet.
Only the soft crackling of the candles and the distant chirping of birds outside filled the silence.
Behind him…
Careful footsteps echoed across the stone floor.
“Riven…?”
Vistara’s voice was gentle.
Almost hesitant.
She stopped only a few feet behind him.
He didn’t answer.
He simply picked up another piece of wood, stacking it beneath one arm before reaching for another.
She waited.
When he still didn’t respond, she took another slow step.
“…Riven.”
Still…
Nothing.
He rose to his feet with the bundle of firewood resting against his side and turned to the cave entrance.
Only to stop.
Vistara stood directly in front of him.
Not blocking him out of frustration…
But refusing to let him continue running.
The two stood in silence.
Riven lowered his eyes.
Outside, the others were giving them space, their voices little more than distant murmurs carried by the breeze.
Vistara searched his face.
She could see it.
The exhaustion.
The fear.
The weight he carried every time someone asked about his past.
“We’re not asking because we’re curious.”
Her voice remained soft.
“We’re asking because we’re worried.”
She swallowed.
“We only want to help you, Riven.”
“You can talk to us.”
She hesitated before quietly adding,
“…You can talk to me.”
Riven’s shoulders slowly sank.
A weary sigh escaped him.
“It’s not that I don’t want to.”
He stared at the bundle of firewood in his arms.
His grip tightened until the bark pressed into his palms.
“…I can’t.”
The words barely escaped him.
He closed his eyes.
“If I tell it…”
His breathing caught.
“…I have to go back.”
The cave suddenly felt smaller.
His heartbeat grew louder.
“I have to see them again.”
His voice trembled for the first time.
“My mother…”
“My father…”
Silence.
He looked away.
“I don’t know if I can survive that again.”
Vistara felt her chest tighten.
Every instinct told her to say something.
To tell him everything would be okay.
But she knew those words would mean nothing.
Instead…
She slowly reached up.
Her fingertips gently brushed against his cheek.
Riven flinched ever so slightly.
Not because he was afraid of her.
Because he wasn’t used to someone comforting him.
Her thumb slowly brushed across his skin.
Warm and gentle.
“I’m not asking you to carry it alone anymore.”
Her eyes never left his.
“You’ve carried it by yourself for years.”
“You don’t have to anymore.”
Another silence settled between them.
One that felt strangely peaceful.
“No matter what happened that night…”
“We’re still here.”
“I’ll still be here.”
Riven looked into her emerald eyes.
There wasn’t pity.
There wasn’t fear.
Only unwavering sincerity.
Something inside him began to crack.
Not his composure.
His loneliness.
He let out a long, shaky breath.
“…Okay.”
The single word barely rose above a whisper.
He nodded once.
Slowly.
“…I’ll tell you.”
He swallowed.
“…I’ll tell you how I awakened.”
Outside…
Javon leaned toward the cave entrance, curiosity getting the better of him.
“…Do you think he’s finally talking?”
Aisling folded her arms.
“You’ve been trying to listen for five minutes.”
“I’ve been respectfully listening.”
“You’ve been eavesdropping.”
“They’re basically the same thing.”
Syanna rolled her eyes.
“They’re absolutely not.”
Javon peeked around the edge of the cave.
His eyes widened.
“…Oh…”
“…OH.”
A grin stretched across his face.
“Oh my gods…”
He pointed inside.
“The hopeless couple is finally about to kiss.”
Syanna instinctively looked.
Inside the cave…
Vistara’s hand rested gently against Riven’s cheek.
The two stood so close they seemed to exist in their own world.
For just a moment…
Something twisted inside Syanna’s chest.
Not anger.
Not jealousy she wanted to admit.
Just…
A quiet ache.
A feeling she couldn’t quite name.
She lowered her eyes.
“…Good for her.”
The words came out softer than she intended.
Before anyone noticed the sadness hidden beneath them, she quietly walked past the others and sat beside the empty fire pit.
She busied herself arranging stones that didn’t need arranging.
Anything to keep her hands occupied.
Aisling watched her leave before looking back to the cave.
“…Do either of them understand what is happening between them?”
Javon snorted.
“I’m starting to think they’ll figure it out when they’re eighty.”
“They’re hopeless.”
Aisling laughed.
“I’ve met spirits with better awareness.”
Inside the cave, Riven and Vistara finally noticed the group staring at them.
They immediately stepped apart.
Vistara’s cheeks flushed crimson.
Javon couldn’t help himself.
He spread his arms dramatically.
“I was about to witness history!”
“Oh, shut up already, Javon!” Vistara shouted.
Javon threw both hands into the air.
“I was rooting for you!”
Riven only shook his head and turned toward the cave entrance, carrying the firewood beneath one arm.
Vistara slipped past him first.
As she passed Javon, she struck him sharply across the upper arm.
“OW!” Javon recoiled and grabbed the spot she had hit.
“What was that for?”
Vistara did not even slow down.
“You know exactly what that was for.”
“I was being supportive.”
“You were spying.”
“I prefer the term emotionally invested.”
Vistara threw him one final glare over her shoulder before walking to Aisling.
The spirit stood near the edge of the clearing, her pale-blue form glowing softly beneath the fading afternoon light.
Her bow rested across her back, its elegant limbs humming with faint currents of Vyr.
The moment Vistara approached, Aisling’s expression brightened.
“So,” Aisling said, folding her arms.
“Are you finally ready to learn what a real Sky Shot is capable of?”
Vistara glanced down at her hands.
The thought still felt strange.
For years, she had trained as a Bladebearer.
Every stance.
Every strike.
Every painful hour spent convincing herself that she simply needed to work harder.
Now, in the span of a single conversation, everything she believed about herself had been overturned.
“I don’t even know where to begin,” Vistara admitted.
Aisling smiled.
“That is usually the best place to start.”
She lifted one hand.
A thin strand of blue Vyr gathered around her fingers, spiraling upward like smoke caught in a breeze.
“A Sky Shot does not simply fire arrows from far away.”
The Vyr stretched between her fingers, forming the glowing outline of an arrow.
“We control distance.”
The arrow turned slowly in the air.
“Momentum.”
It shot forward several feet before stopping instantly.
“Trajectory.”
The arrow curved sharply around a tree without losing speed.
“And, if properly trained…”
Aisling flicked two fingers.
The glowing arrow divided into three smaller projectiles before fading into sparks.
“…the battlefield itself.”
Vistara stared.
It felt like finally understanding what those years had been preparing her for.
Several yards away, Riven emerged from the cave carrying the bundle of chopped wood beneath one arm.
He glanced briefly at Vistara and Aisling.
Vistara was already asking questions, her earlier embarrassment forgotten beneath genuine curiosity.
A faint smile touched Riven’s face.
Then his attention shifted to the firepit.
Syanna sat beside it alone.
Her knees were drawn slightly to her chest, and her hands rested quietly in her lap.
She stared at the cold ring of stones without truly looking at them.
Riven walked to her.
The dry grass shifted beneath his boots, but Syanna did not look up.
He lowered the bundle of wood beside the firepit.
Neither of them spoke.
The clearing was not silent.
Javon continued complaining about his arm.
Aisling explained something about breathing control.
Birds called from the surrounding trees.
Yet around the firepit, the air felt strangely still.
As though something had settled between Riven and Syanna.
Something neither of them understood well enough to name.
Riven crouched and began arranging the smaller pieces of wood inside the stone circle.
He placed two logs parallel to one another, then laid several thinner branches across them.
Riven glanced at Syanna.
Syanna had always been quiet, but this silence felt different.
Her usual faint smile was gone.
Her expression was calm, yet there was a heaviness behind it that he could not explain.
For a brief moment, he wondered whether something had happened.
Then his thoughts turned to Aelwyn.
The old spirit had remained inside the Vanguard ever since he began searching for answers about the Crimson Brand.
Perhaps Syanna was worried about him.
Perhaps his absence had left her feeling unsteady.
Perhaps she missed having her master beside her.
Riven did not know.
Emotions had never been a language he understood easily.
So he looked away and returned his attention to the fire.
He struck two stones together.
A small spark leapt onto the dry leaves beneath the wood.
Riven leaned closer, shielding it from the wind with one hand.
The ember glowed.
Smoke curled upward.
Then a small flame flickered to life.
Syanna watched it grow.
The orange light reflected in her emerald eyes.
Riven added another thin branch before calling across the clearing.
“Javon!”
Javon stopped rubbing his arm.
“What?”
“Did you take any meat when you were removing the Gloomfang’s scales?”
Javon blinked.
Then his face brightened.
“Oh.”
He pointed to himself.
“You mean did I have the intelligence and foresight to collect food from the enormous monster you killed?”
Riven stared at him.
Javon cleared his throat.
“Yes. I did.”
He hurried to his pack before Riven could respond.
The bag rested near the cave entrance, bulging awkwardly from everything Javon had forced inside it.
He dropped to one knee and began digging through it.
“Scales…”
He tossed a bundle aside.
“More scales…”
Another bundle landed beside the first.
“A knife I thought I lost…”
Syanna glanced at him.
“You lost that yesterday.”
“And now I have found it.”
Javon continued searching.
“An old piece of bread…”
He sniffed it.
Syanna’s eyes narrowed.
“Do not eat that.”
“I wasn’t going to.”
“I consider many things.”
Finally, Javon pulled out a thick slab of dark-red meat wrapped in broad leaves.
“Found it.”
He carried it to the fire with both hands.
The meat was dense and heavily marbled, far darker than ordinary venison.
Thin traces of black blood still clung to one edge.
Aisling turned at the sight of it.
Her eyes moved from the meat…
To Javon…
Then to Riven.
“Wait.”
She stepped closer.
“Did you say that came from a Gloomfang?”
Riven accepted the meat from Javon.
“Yes.”
Aisling stared at him.
“You killed a Gloomfang?”
Riven crouched beside the fire again.
“I got lucky. Once I damaged its legs, it couldn’t move properly.”
He selected a long branch and examined its tip.
Behind him, Javon immediately shook his head.
Slowly.
Repeatedly.
Aisling noticed.
Her gaze narrowed.
Riven pushed the stick through the center of the meat and balanced it across two stones above the flames.
“What?” he asked.
Javon quickly stopped shaking his head.
“Nothing.”
Aisling looked between them.
“He injured it?”
Aisling stared at Riven for several long seconds.
The young man quietly adjusted the meat over the fire as though killing one of Velora’s most feared predators was not worth discussing.
Aisling slowly raised a hand to her forehead.
“Raku…”
Her voice came out beneath her breath.
“What kind of monster did you raise?”
At the mention of Raku’s name, Riven’s hand briefly stopped.
Only for a moment.
Then he continued turning the meat.
Aisling noticed.
Her expression softened, but she said nothing more.
One by one, the others gathered around the firepit.
Aisling lowered herself beside Vistara, continuing to answer questions between glances at the cooking meat.
Javon sat closest to the fire until Syanna told him his boots were beginning to smoke.
He moved back reluctantly.
Riven remained crouched near the flames, rotating the Gloomfang meat so it cooked evenly.
Fat began dripping onto the burning wood.
Each drop caused the fire to hiss and flare.
A rich, smoky aroma slowly spread through the clearing.
Javon leaned forward.
His stomach growled loudly enough for everyone to hear.
He placed a hand over it.
“That was not me.”
Syanna looked at him.
“It came from your body.”
“That proves nothing.”
The smell grew stronger.
Javon inhaled deeply.
“You know…”
He closed his eyes.
“That actually smells incredible.”
“Everything smells good to you,” Syanna said.
Javon opened one eye.
“That is not true.”
“You tried to eat moldy bread thirty seconds ago.”
“I inspected it.”
“With your mouth open.”
“That is how professionals inspect food.”
A small laugh escaped Vistara.
Even Aisling smiled.
For a few moments, the tension eased.
The fire crackled.
Warm light spread across their faces as evening slowly descended over the forest.
Beyond the clearing, shadows stretched between the trees.
The wind cooled.
The sky above them deepened from gold to dark blue.
Yet, as the conversation faded, the heaviness returned.
Everyone knew why they had gathered.
The food was not the reason.
Neither was the fire.
They were waiting.
Waiting for Riven to speak.
Waiting for him to open a door he had kept sealed for years.
No one wanted to pressure him.
But no one knew how to pretend they were not thinking about it.
Javon stared into the flames.
Vistara folded her hands in her lap.
Aisling’s earlier excitement had quieted.
Syanna remained beside him, her expression unreadable.
Deep within the Vanguard, Aelwyn remained silent.
Riven could still feel the old spirit’s presence somewhere beyond his reach.
Distant.
Restless.
Searching.
Whether he was listening to the conversation or too consumed by the mystery of the Brand, Riven could not tell.
Riven felt every set of eyes around the fire without looking up.
He continued turning the meat.
Anything to give his hands something to do.
The flames shifted beneath the meat, casting uneven shadows across his face.
Finally, he stopped.
His fingers tightened around the stick.
He drew in a breath.
It caught halfway into his lungs.
For a moment, he nearly changed his mind.
He could tell them the food was ready.
He could ask Aisling another question.
He could leave to gather more wood.
Anything would be easier than returning to that night.
But then he remembered Vistara’s hand against his cheek.
Her words.
You don’t have to carry it alone anymore.
Riven slowly lifted his gaze.
Everyone was watching him now.
Not with curiosity.
With concern.
That somehow made it harder.
He swallowed.
“So…”
His voice came out quieter than he intended.
He looked back to the fire.
“I don’t know how to start this.”
No one interrupted him.
Riven’s jaw tightened.
“But…”
He paused, forcing himself to breathe.
“It’s time I told you.”
The fire snapped loudly as one of the logs split apart.
Sparks rose into the darkening air.
Riven watched them disappear.
Then he finally said the words he had spent years avoiding.
“…It’s time I told you how I awakened.”