Riven remained beside the fire for several moments without speaking.
The Gloomfang meat had darkened along the edges, its surface glistening beneath the orange light.
Fat hissed whenever it dripped into the flames, sending brief sparks twisting into the evening air.
Riven reached into his pocket and pulled out the cloth he had wrapped his blade pieces in.
He unraveled it, running his fingers slowly along each piece.
Even broken, the blade remained one of the few things Riven had left from his first real battle.
He selected one of the longer fragments and carefully wiped it against the cloth before using its sharp edge to slice through the cooked meat.
No one rushed him.
No one spoke.
The group remained gathered around the fire while Riven divided the food into rough portions.
He handed the first piece to Syanna, then Vistara, and Javon.
Javon accepted his portion with both hands.
For once, he did not immediately eat.
Riven cut one final piece for himself and rested the broken fragment beside his knee.
He stared into the flames.
The firelight moved across his face, brightening his golden eyes before allowing them to fall into shadow again.
He had already promised to tell them.
Yet now that the moment had arrived, the words refused to come.
His fingers tightened around the meat in his hands.
Then slowly relaxed.
“I was eight when everything happened.”
The others became perfectly still.
Riven kept his gaze on the fire.
“I grew up in Soulmere.”
Vistara’s expression changed immediately.
Her breath caught.
Beside her, Syanna lowered the food she had been about to taste.
“Soulmere?” Vistara asked.
Her voice was quiet, as though saying the name too loudly might disturb something buried beneath it.
“You mean the city Varnis first attacked?”
Riven nodded once.
The movement was almost too small to notice.
Javon’s usual smile disappeared.
“I heard no one survived.”
Riven did not respond immediately.
The fire cracked between them.
Javon looked down at the meat resting in his hands.
“I’m sorry, man.”
His voice no longer carried its usual humor.
“I didn’t know.”
Riven finally looked at him.
There was no anger in his expression.
Only exhaustion.
“It’s all right.”
He lowered his gaze again.
“Like you said, you didn’t know.”
Silence returned.
Riven turned the broken blade fragment over between his fingers, watching the thin golden line embedded in the steel catch the firelight.
“Growing up, I was trained as though I would become a Bladebearer.”
Vistara’s attention sharpened.
“My father taught me how to hold a sword before I was strong enough to swing one properly.”
A faint, distant smile touched Riven’s face.
“He used to place his hands over mine and guide the blade for me.”
The smile faded almost as quickly as it appeared.
“I learned footwork, stances, how to control my breathing and how to watch an opponent’s shoulders instead of their weapon. But no one ever trained me to become a Soulmancer.”
His fingers closed around the sword fragment.
“I didn’t even know what a Soulmancer was.”
Riven glanced at Vistara.
“In some ways, I suppose I was like you.”
Vistara frowned.
“Like me?”
“Being trained for one path while your destiny leaned towards another.”
Before she could answer, Javon pointed at her.
“Except Riven is actually good with a blade.”
Vistara slowly turned her head.
Javon continued before noticing the danger in her expression.
“She can barely hold hers correctly.”
“Javon.”
Her voice was dangerously calm.
He immediately lowered his hand.
“Sorry.”
He mimed locking his lips.
“Being quiet.”
Riven shook his head.
A faint breath escaped him that might have been the beginning of a laugh.
It disappeared quickly.
His eyes returned to the fire.
“One night, we were eating dinner.”
The mood around the fire shifted.
Even the forest seemed quieter.
“My mother had made stew.”
Riven’s voice softened.
“I remember complaining because she had put too many carrots in mine.”
He looked down at his hands.
“My father told me to stop complaining and eat.”
A small smile appeared again.
“He said warriors didn’t grow strong by avoiding vegetables.”
No one interrupted him.
Vistara watched as the warmth slowly drained from his expression.
“Then we heard screaming.”
The words settled heavily over the group.
Riven’s hand stopped moving.
“At first, it sounded far away.”
“One voice.”
“Then another.”
“Then dozens.”
His breathing became shallower.
“My father stood up from the table.”
Riven could see it again.
The bowl of stew.
The wooden spoon falling from his father’s hand.
His mother turned to the window.
The sudden silence inside their home.
“He told us to stay where we were.”
Riven swallowed.
“Then he went outside to see what was happening.”
The flames shifted.
For an instant, Riven no longer saw the firepit.
He saw the small hearth inside his childhood home.
He saw his mother standing beside the table, one hand pressed against her chest.
He saw the door.
Waiting.
Waiting for his father to return.
“When he came back…”
Riven’s voice weakened.
He stared at the ground as though examining every stone beneath his boots.
But he was no longer seeing the clearing.
“He looked different.”
No one moved.
“He wasn’t injured.”
“There was no blood on him.”
Riven’s brow tightened.
“But his face…”
He struggled to continue.
“It was as though he had already seen what was going to happen.”
His voice lowered.
“Like his fate had been carved into stone.”
Riven slowly looked up.
“My father was the strongest person I knew.”
“I had seen him fight.”
“I had seen him stand between our home and wild animals twice his size.”
“I had never seen him afraid.”
A slight tremor passed through his hands.
“But that night…”
“He knew he couldn’t win.”
The words nearly broke apart in his throat.
Vistara’s fingers curled against her knees.
Riven continued before he lost the strength to do so.
“My mother looked at him.”
“They didn’t say anything at first.”
“They didn’t need to.”
His eyes began to burn.
“It was like they had an entire conversation without speaking.”
Riven inhaled, but the breath caught inside his chest.
“My mother already understood.”
“She looked at me…”
His jaw tightened.
“And she smiled.”
A tear gathered along his lower eyelid.
“It wasn’t a happy smile.”
“It was the kind of smile someone gives when they’re trying to convince you not to be afraid.”
Riven rubbed his palms together.
As though he could scrub the memory from his skin.
“They told me to run.”
His voice became quieter.
“They told me to go through the back door and head into the forest.”
“They said I wasn’t allowed to stop.”
Riven closed his eyes.
“No matter what I heard…”
“No matter who called my name…”
“I was never supposed to look back.”
The group listened in complete silence.
“When my father pushed open the front door, I ran.”
Riven’s breathing quickened.
“I ran through the back of the house and into the street.”
The memory swallowed him.
The heat of nearby fires.
The sound of steel striking steel.
Buildings burning.
People screaming.
“The city was already dying.”
His eyes opened, but he continued seeing the past.
“Bodies were everywhere.”
Syanna’s expression softened.
Riven’s voice trembled.
“I saw people I knew.”
“The baker who used to give me bread when my mother wasn’t looking.”
“The woman who sold vegetables near the square.”
He paused.
“And children.”
His fingers clenched around his knees.
“Children I used to play with until the sun went down.”
Riven’s eyes filled.
“They were lying in the road.”
“Some of them still had their wooden swords beside them.”
His voice cracked.
“They were staring at me.”
The fire blurred before him.
“Their eyes were open…”
“But there was nothing behind them.”
Vistara lowered her head.
Javon’s food remained untouched in his hands.
“I closed my eyes.”
Riven wiped his cheek, though the tears had not yet fallen.
“I kept running with my eyes closed because I couldn’t look at them anymore.”
“I tripped.”
“I hit walls.”
“I could hear people screaming around me.”
“But I kept running.”
His chest rose sharply.
“Eventually, I reached the edge of the forest.”
Riven became silent.
The others waited.
“I should have kept going.”
The first tear slid down his cheek.
“My parents had told me not to look back.”
His voice became little more than a whisper.
“But I did.”
Vistara’s eyes glistened.
Riven slowly lifted his head.
“When I turned around…”
The words disappeared.
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
His shoulders trembled.
For several seconds, he fought to breathe.
Vistara almost moved to him.
But she stopped herself.
This was his story.
He needed to choose whether he could continue.
Riven drew in a long, unsteady breath.
“I saw them.”
His voice broke.
“I saw my mother standing behind my father.”
“He was trying to protect her.”
Riven’s hands curled into fists.
“He fought.”
“He really fought.”
A strange mixture of pride and agony filled his expression.
“But there were too many.”
The tear reached his jaw before falling into the dirt.
“I watched them cut him down.”
Syanna closed her eyes.
“And then…”
Riven could barely force the words out.
“My mother.”
The fire cracked loudly.
No one reacted.
“I watched them kill her too.”
His face tightened.
“I watched both of them die.”
The sentence seemed to drain the strength from him.
He leaned forward, his elbows resting against his knees.
“For a moment, I couldn’t move.”
“I couldn’t breathe.”
“I just stood there.”
His voice shook.
“Then I screamed.”
Riven raised one hand to his mouth as if he could still feel the sound tearing its way out.
“I screamed so loudly that the bandits heard me.”
“They all turned.”
His eyes widened slightly, reliving the terror.
“One of them pointed to me.”
“Then they started running.”
Riven wiped his face and tried to steady himself.
“I didn’t even get time to mourn them.”
The pain in his voice hardened into something bitter.
“They were dead…”
“And I was already running for my life.”
The firelight flickered across his face as his story continued.
“I ran deeper into the forest.”
“Branches tore at my clothes.”
“Roots cut into my feet.”
“I didn’t know where I was going.”
“I just knew I couldn’t stop.”
His breathing gradually steadied.
“I thought I had lost them.”
“I found a large tree and leaned against it.”
“My legs were shaking.”
“My lungs were burning.”
“I remember thinking that I only needed to rest for a few seconds.”
His jaw tightened.
“Then someone grabbed me from behind.”
“It was one of the bandits that were chasing me.”
Riven touched the side of his neck.
“He wrapped his arm around my throat and lifted me off the ground.”
His fingers pressed harder against his skin.
“I kicked.”
“I scratched him.”
“I tried to bite him.”
“Nothing worked.”
The clearing seemed to grow colder.
“He kept squeezing.”
Riven stared into the fire.
“The forest began disappearing.”
“Everything turned dark around the edges.”
“Then I started seeing tiny points of color.”
“Blue.”
“White.”
“Gold.”
His expression changed.
Not peaceful.
But softer.
“That was when I heard him.”
Aisling’s gaze lifted sharply.
“Raku.”
The name carried more emotion than any other word Riven had spoken.
“He was yelling at me.”
Riven’s brow furrowed as he remembered.
“I couldn’t see him at first.”
“I didn’t understand where the voice was coming from.”
“He kept telling me to let him help.”
“To accept him.”
Riven looked at his hands.
“I didn’t understand what he meant.”
“I didn’t know what a Vanguard was.”
“I didn’t know anything about spirits.”
He gave a faint, broken laugh.
“I was eight years old.”
The laugh faded.
“But I was dying.”
“So I said yes.”
Aisling’s expression tightened.
Riven’s eyes moved to her.
“The moment I accepted him, everything became blue.”
His voice carried a trace of wonder despite the pain surrounding the memory.
“Raku appeared between us.”
“Not as an orb.”
“Not as a voice.”
“As a warrior.”
Riven’s posture straightened slightly.
“He killed the bandit before I even understood what was happening.”
No one asked for details.
The distant look in his eyes told them he could see every moment clearly.
“I fell to the ground and stayed there.”
“My throat hurt.”
“My entire body was shaking.”
“I couldn’t stop coughing.”
Riven smiled faintly.
“And then Raku knelt beside me.”
Aisling’s eyes began to glisten.
“He looked at me as if I were someone important.”
“Someone worth protecting.”
Riven lowered his eyes.
“Even then…”
“Covered in dirt…”
“Crying…”
“Barely able to breathe…”
“He called me ‘sire.'”
The faint smile remained.
“I thought he was insane.”
Aisling released a quiet breath that almost became a laugh.
“That sounds like him.”
Riven nodded.
“I wasn’t alone.”
The smile faded into something more sorrowful.
Riven looked to the darkness beyond the fire.
“We walked through the forest for hours.”
“Maybe four.”
“Maybe longer.”
“I don’t know.”
“Time stopped meaning anything.”
His hands rested loosely in his lap now.
“Eventually, we reached Sabercrest.”
Javon finally shifted.
Riven continued.
“By then, my clothes were torn.”
“I was covered in mud.”
“There was dried blood on my neck.”
“I looked like a beggar.”
His voice grew distant.
“I went from house to house.”
“I knocked on doors.”
“I told people my city had been attacked.”
“I asked them for food.”
“For water.”
“A place to sleep.”
He paused.
“They closed their doors.”
Vistara looked down.
“Some of them wouldn’t even look at me.”
“One man told me to leave before I frightened his children.”
The group remained silent.
“I kept walking until the sun went down.”
“Then I returned to the forest.”
Riven glanced at the cave behind them.
“That was when Raku and I found this place.”
The cave entrance appeared darker beneath the evening sky.
“It was empty.”
“Cold.”
“There were insects everywhere.”
“But it had walls.”
“It had a roof.”
“And no one could close the door in my face.”
His voice cracked again.
“I curled up near the back.”
“I didn’t have a blanket.”
“I didn’t have a fire.”
“I just lay on the stone floor.”
Riven’s gaze lowered.
“And I cried.”
No one moved.
“I cried until I couldn’t breathe.”
“Until my chest hurt.”
“Until I was too tired to make another sound.”
He let out a slow breath.
“Then I fell asleep.”
Riven’s eyes drifted to the cave.
“The next morning, I woke up hungry.”
“And that was when surviving became the only thing I could think about.”
He rubbed his hands together again.
“I knew a little about farming.”
“My mother had taught me how to plant vegetables.”
“My father had taught me how to find clean water.”
“So I used what I knew.”
“I gathered seeds from plants growing near the river.”
“I cleared a small patch of dirt.”
“I planted anything that looked familiar.”
Riven gave a humorless smile.
“Most of it died.”
“Some of it never grew.”
“And what did grow wasn’t enough.”
Syanna studied him carefully.
“There were days when I didn’t eat.”
“Sometimes several days.”
“I drank water to make my stomach feel full.”
“I chewed roots even when I didn’t know whether they were safe.”
His expression darkened.
“I nearly died more than once.”
“From hunger.”
“From sickness.”
“From animals.”
He touched the broken blade fragment beside him.
“But Raku stayed.”
“He hunted when I couldn’t.”
“He taught me how to fight.”
“He showed me which plants were poisonous.”
“He made sure I woke up every morning.”
Riven looked to Aisling.
“That is why he became more than a spirit to me.”
His voice grew quiet.
“He didn’t simply save my life that night.”
“He saved it every day after.”
Aisling lowered her gaze.
The blue light surrounding her dimmed slightly.
Riven looked back to the fire.
“Eventually, the farm grew.”
“I learned to hunt.”
“I learned how to survive winter.”
“I stopped going to bed wondering whether I would wake up.”
His hands folded together.
“But I never returned to Sabercrest asking for help.”
A trace of coldness entered his voice.
“I learned early that people would rather close their doors than look at suffering.”
Vistara watched him across the flames.
She fully understood the distance he often placed between himself and others.
It was not because he did not care.
It was because, for most of his life, caring had only given people another way to leave him.
Riven fell silent.
The fire continued to crackle between them.
No one knew what to say.
No apology could return his parents.
No reassurance could erase the years he had spent surviving alone.
“That’s how I awakened.”
His voice was exhausted.
“That’s how I met Raku.”
A faint smile crossed his face despite the tears still marking his cheeks.
“And that’s how this cave became my home.”
Aisling remained quiet long after Riven finished speaking.
The fire crackled between them, but no one reached for the food in their hands.
The Gloomfang meat had begun to cool, forgotten beneath the weight of everything Riven had revealed.
Aisling watched him from across the flames.
The pale-blue light surrounding her had dimmed until it rested against her skin like moonlight.
Her usual confidence was gone.
In its place was something softer.
Something almost maternal.
“I’m sorry you went through all of that, Riven.”
Her voice was gentle.
Not pitying.
Not careful in the way people spoke when they were afraid someone might break.
Simply sincere.
Riven looked down at the piece of meat resting in his hand.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he gave a small nod.
“…Thank you.”
Aisling’s gaze drifted to his chest, to the place where his Vanguard rested.
Raku was somewhere inside it.
Broken.
Silent.
Yet after hearing Riven’s story, Aisling understood something she had not before.
Raku had not simply found a frightened child in the forest.
He had found someone who had lost everything.
And from that night forward, Raku had made himself the one thing Riven still possessed.
A protector.
A teacher.
A family.
Aisling lowered her eyes.
“You know…”
A faint smile tugged at her lips.
“Raku never told me any of that.”
Riven glanced at her.
“He didn’t?”
“No.”
She shook her head slowly.
“He told me that he had found a Soulmancer worth serving.”
Her smile became warmer.
“He never mentioned that his great and powerful sire was an eight-year-old covered in mud.”
A quiet breath escaped Riven.
It was not quite a laugh, but it was close.
“That sounds like him.”
“It does.”
Aisling looked into the flames.
“He always did enjoy making himself sound more mysterious than he actually was.”
For a brief moment, the heaviness surrounding the group eased.
Then Aisling’s expression changed.
Her smile faded.
The blue glow in her eyes sharpened as her attention returned to Riven.
She straightened slightly.
“However…”
Riven noticed the shift immediately.
“What?”
Aisling hesitated.
She looked around the circle, studying each of them before returning her gaze to him.
“I have good news.”
Javon leaned forward.
Then Aisling added,
“And bad news.”
Javon’s shoulders immediately sank.
“Why is there always bad news?”
Syanna glanced at him.
“Because you usually interrupt before anyone can explain the good news.”
“I do not.”
“You just did.”
Javon opened his mouth.
Then slowly closed it.
Riven ignored them.
His golden eyes remained fixed on Aisling.
“What do you mean?”
Aisling folded her hands in her lap.
“The good news is that you are probably not an enemy of the Church.”
The reaction was immediate.
Vistara straightened.
Syanna’s eyes widened.
Even Javon stopped preparing whatever argument had been forming in his head.
“Probably?”
Aisling winced.
“I said it was good news. I did not say it was perfect news.”
Javon pointed at her.
“That is not as comforting as you think it is.”
Aisling sighed.
“What I mean is that Riven did not intentionally avoid the Church’s awakening rites.”
She looked at him.
“You were a child.”
“You awakened during an attack.”
“There was no priest present.”
“No instructor.”
“No one from the Church guiding the process.”
She paused.
“You did not reject their authority.”
“You survived without it.”
Vistara’s brow furrowed.
“Would the Church actually recognize the difference?”
“They should.”
Aisling’s voice carried the slightest trace of doubt.
“The Church is strict, but it is not supposed to punish children for circumstances beyond their control.”
Javon crossed his arms.
“The word ‘supposed’ is doing a lot of work in that sentence.”
Aisling ignored him.
“Riven’s awakening happened naturally.”
“Or…”
She paused again.
“Partially naturally.”
Riven’s eyes narrowed.
There it was.
The part she had been avoiding.
“What’s the bad news?”
Before Aisling could answer, Javon leaned closer.
“Yes.”
He pointed between them.
“What is the part that makes all of us regret feeling relieved?”
Aisling released a slow breath.
“The bad news is…”
Her gaze settled on Riven.
“You have not properly awakened yet.”
Silence.
The fire gave a sharp pop.
A burning ember split from one of the logs and rolled into the ash.
Riven stared at her.
For several seconds, he seemed certain he had misheard.
“…What?”
Vistara looked between them.
“What do you mean he hasn’t awakened?”
“He has a Vanguard,” Syanna said.
“He can summon spirits.”
“He uses Vyr.”
“He has done things that most trained fighters cannot.”
Aisling nodded.
“I know.”
“Then how can he not be awakened?” Vistara asked.
Aisling raised one hand.
A pale strand of blue Vyr curled around her fingertips.
“Because awakening is not simply the moment someone first accesses their power.”
The Vyr gathered into a small glowing sphere.
“It is the moment the soul, body and Vyr fully align.”
A second sphere formed beside the first.
Then a third.
Aisling slowly moved them together.
“The body must be prepared to contain Vyr.”
“The soul must open itself.”
“And the Vanguard must form in a stable state.”
The three spheres touched.
Instead of merging, they trembled violently against one another.
“Under normal circumstances, this happens gradually.”
“The Church guides the person through the process.”
“They prepare the body.”
“They stabilize the soul.”
“They make certain the Vanguard forms correctly.”
Her expression grew serious.
“That did not happen to you.”
Riven watched the trembling spheres.
Aisling closed her fingers, causing the Vyr to disappear.
“You experienced what ancient Soulmancers called a forced emotional awakening.”
Syanna’s expression tightened.
“What does that mean?”
“It means his soul was forced open before it was ready.”
Aisling turned to Riven.
“Fear.”
“Grief.”
“Desperation.”
“The instinct to survive.”
“Those emotions created enough pressure to tear open the path to his Vanguard.”
Riven’s fingers tightened around his knees.
“So Raku forced me to awaken?”
“No.”
Aisling answered immediately.
“Raku answered you.”
She leaned forward.
“There is a difference.”
“Your soul was already breaking open because of what happened.”
“Raku simply found the opening.”
“He used the bond to enter your Vanguard before the process could kill you.”
Riven’s expression shifted.
The answer seemed to comfort him and disturb him at the same time.
Vistara looked at his chest.
“So what Raku did saved him?”
“Yes.”
Aisling nodded.
“But it also interrupted the natural completion of the awakening.”
The clearing grew quiet again.
Riven looked at her.
“What does that mean for me?”
Aisling did not answer immediately.
Her eyes moved over him carefully.
“It means your Vanguard exists.”
“Your Vyr flows.”
“You can form contracts with spirits.”
“But your soul never finished settling into its awakened state.”
She lowered her voice.
“In simple terms…”
“You opened the door.”
“But you never stepped fully through it.”
Riven stared into the fire.
A strange numbness settled over his expression.
He had spent years believing the night he met Raku had been his awakening.
Now Aisling was telling him it had only been the beginning.
Vistara leaned forward.
“Is that why he does not have a crest?”
Aisling’s eyes shifted to her.
“It is possible.”
Riven looked up sharply.
“Possible?”
“I cannot say with certainty.”
Aisling’s expression hardened with thought.
“A Soulmancer’s crest usually appears when the awakening stabilizes.”
“It is the soul’s confirmation that the process is complete.”
She glanced to Riven’s chest again.
“If your awakening never finished…”
“Then your crest may not have formed yet.”
The explanation settled over them.
Syanna looked thoughtful.
“So the missing crest might not mean there is something wrong with him.”
Aisling hesitated.
“It might mean there is something unfinished.”
Riven absorbed the distinction.
Wrong.
Unfinished.
One sounded like a flaw.
The other sounded like a path.
Before he could ask another question—
Javon suddenly shot to his feet.
“COME ON!”
His voice rang through the clearing.
Several birds burst from a nearby tree.
Aisling flinched.
Vistara jumped.
Syanna closed her eyes in immediate exhaustion.
Javon threw both hands to the sky.
“This is ridiculous!”
Riven stared at him.
“What?”
Javon spun to him.
“What do you mean, what?”
He began counting on his fingers.
“You are apparently some kind of lost prince.”
Riven frowned.
“That has not been confirmed.”
“No one cares.”
Javon raised another finger.
“You have spirits appearing out of nowhere and pledging their eternal loyalty to you.”
Aisling lifted a hand.
“I did not pledge eternal loyalty.”
Javon pointed at her without looking away from Riven.
“You climbed into his chest.”
“That was his Vanguard.”
“That is somehow worse.”
Aisling opened her mouth, then decided against responding.
Javon raised a third finger.
“You have women staring at you everywhere we go.”
Vistara’s cheeks immediately reddened.
Syanna looked away.
Riven blinked.
“What women?”
Javon stared at him in complete disbelief.
“That question alone makes me hate you more.”
“Javon,” Vistara warned.
He ignored her.
“You are handsome.”
Riven looked even more confused.
“You killed a Gloomfang less than a week after nearly being cut in half.”
Javon pointed to the half-eaten meat around the fire.
“We are currently eating proof of how unfair your existence is.”
He raised both arms dramatically.
“And now…”
His voice climbed even louder.
“NOW I find out you haven’t even fully awakened?”
Riven opened his mouth.
Javon cut him off.
“No.”
He shook his head.
“No, you have had enough.”
“That is too much potential for one person.”
Riven glanced to Syanna.
“Is he serious?”
Syanna watched Javon’s performance with a perfectly blank expression.
“Unfortunately.”
Javon turned to her.
“Syanna.”
He held out one hand.
“Bring me my spear.”
Syanna did not move.
“I am going to kill him myself.”
Vistara folded her arms.
“You would lose.”
Javon looked offended.
“I would catch him by surprise.”
Aisling tilted her head.
“He sensed a Gloomfang hiding in the forest before anyone else noticed it.”
Javon paused.
“Fine.”
He lowered his voice conspiratorially.
“I will poison him.”
Syanna shook her head.
“You nearly ate moldy bread.”
“That is unrelated.”
“You would poison yourself.”
Javon pointed to her.
“Then I will require assistance.”
“No.”
“A little support from my sister would be appreciated.”
“No.”
Riven finally allowed a small smile to appear.
It grew into a quiet laugh.
The sound surprised everyone.
Not because they had never heard him laugh.
But because only moments earlier, tears had been running down his face.
Javon slowly lowered his hands.
His expression softened.
For all the exaggeration, that had been the real purpose of his outburst.
The story had dragged Riven back into the worst night of his life.
Javon had simply found the only rope he knew how to throw.
Noise.
Ridiculousness.
Laughter.
Riven shook his head.
“You are an idiot.”
Javon placed a hand against his chest.
“And yet I am apparently the only fully awakened man here.”
Aisling’s eyes narrowed.
“You are not a Soulmancer.”
“That is not the point.”
“It is entirely the point.”
Vistara laughed beneath her breath.
Even Syanna’s missing smile finally returned, faint though it was.
The tension around the fire loosened.
Only slightly.
But enough for everyone to breathe again.
Riven looked back to Aisling.
The humor faded from his expression, though some of its warmth remained.
“If I have not fully awakened…”
He paused.
“Can I still complete it?”
Aisling studied him.
“Yes.”
The answer came without hesitation.
Riven leaned forward.
“How?”
Aisling’s expression became serious once more.
“That…”
“…is where the real problem begins.”