Duskridge.
Even the name felt heavy in the mouth, like it was meant to be whispered and forgotten.
It wasn't a city built for the living anymore. That much was clear the moment Riven and Kael stepped through the shattered gate.
The sky above was pitch-dark — not night, but a perpetual eclipse. The sun refused to shine here, swallowed by thick, swirling clouds that never moved. The air was colder, as if time itself had slowed. The buildings were crooked silhouettes, slouching like they were too tired to stand. Doors hung open. Lamps flickered with no flame. The streets were silent.
No birds.
No footsteps.
No wind.
Only the occasional whisper. Barely audible. As if the city was… breathing.
Kael clutched the pendant around his neck. "I heard stories. They said no one who enters Duskridge stays sane."
"They were wrong," Riven said flatly. "I'm already not sane."
> "Technically true," Veyron mused. "But that's my fault, not the city's."
They moved forward carefully, stepping over cracked stone and charred bones. The sigils on the walls shimmered faintly as Riven passed — not in warning, but in recognition.
"This place knew your blood," Veyron whispered.
"Was this one of the nine bloodline cities?"
> "No," the spirit replied. "But it guarded something that belonged to them. Or rather... something that shouldn't have."
Riven paused at the entrance of what must have once been a chapel. Its stained glass was shattered, but the iron bell overhead remained untouched. As they stepped inside, a gust of warm air brushed against them — the first warmth since entering Duskridge.
And then they saw it.
At the center of the ruined temple was a mirror.
It stood alone, upright, unbroken, its surface dark as onyx and smooth as water.
Riven approached cautiously.
The moment he looked into it—
He saw himself.
But older.
Eyes colder. Face scarred. His hair longer, cloak tattered. The version of him in the mirror didn't blink. Didn't breathe.
It simply watched.
> "That's not a reflection," Veyron said, voice suddenly hard. "That's a memory."
The mirror began to ripple like disturbed water. Images surged — flame, blood, screaming voices.
A woman's voice.
"Riven! Please—!"
And then… silence.
The mirror cracked.
A single line down the middle.
Then, behind it — the wall split open, revealing a staircase descending into black stone.
Riven didn't hesitate.
---
The passage was tight, steep, and filled with cold, damp air. Strange markings lined the walls — unfamiliar glyphs etched in silver ink. They pulsed faintly as they passed, like they were reacting to Riven's presence.
At the bottom lay a sealed chamber — a round, domed room with a stone pedestal in the center. Upon it, another book.
But this one was half-burned.
Its title — barely visible — read:
"Chronicles of the Hollow Flame."
Riven opened it slowly.
The first few pages were blank.
Then words appeared, burning into the page letter by letter — as if the book were remembering.
> "Velmora did not fall to war. It fell to betrayal."
"The fire that sealed the Gate was lit not by kings — but by their heirs."
"And one of them still burns."
> "Your siblings…" Veyron murmured. "You weren't the only child."
Riven froze.
"I had… a brother?"
The page turned itself.
A sigil glowed. A single word burned onto the parchment:
"Vaelen."
---
Suddenly the air trembled.
Stone cracked.
The chamber groaned — and then something moved in the walls.
Kael screamed as shadow burst from the ceiling — a writhing, insect-like creature of twisted bones and black smoke. Its face was a skull wrapped in stitched flesh, its voice a chorus of whispers.
It lunged.
Riven shoved Kael aside and swung his blade upward, slashing through the shadow's midsection. It shrieked — not in pain, but in rage — and recoiled into the ceiling.
"What was that?!"
> "A Whisperfiend," Veyron hissed. "They were bound to this city to guard what it buried. If you stay too long, they'll start whispering inside your soul."
Riven picked up the book.
"We're leaving."
---
Back at the surface, the clouds above Duskridge churned faster.
The mirror in the chapel shattered behind them.
Riven and Kael ran.
By the time they reached the outskirts of the city, Riven looked back once.
He saw the shadows curling around the ruined temple, and a flash of eyes watching from the dark.
He didn't stop.
Because in his bag now sat a name he hadn't known he had:
Vaelen.
And that changed everything.
---