---
The moon faded behind shrouds of storm.
Riven and Kael moved swiftly through the lower woodlands beyond Elowen's Vale, heading southeast. The trees here were broader, older—trunks grown together like clasped hands. Mist drifted between the roots. Even the birds had gone silent.
"We're being followed," Kael whispered.
"I know," Riven said. "Since midnight."
> "They've kept distance," Veyron added. "Not the Trackers. Someone more... patient."
Riven stopped by a moss-covered stone.
A blade had been driven into the center of the path. Thin. Black steel. No hilt—just a circular handguard etched with three interlocking moons.
Kael narrowed his eyes. "That's not Velmoran make."
"No," Riven murmured. "It's from the Eclipse Court."
He knelt beside the blade, running a finger along its edge. Despite its age, it was ice-cold.
"This design belonged to the High Envoy's bladesmen." He looked up. "My father had one."
The wind stirred again.
A woman stepped from behind a twisted tree.
She wore half armor, obsidian and silver, with a long sleeveless cloak bearing the insignia of the Eclipse: a black crescent wrapped in chains. Her face was mostly covered by a smooth silver mask, lips painted dark. A longsword was strapped to her back, and her eyes glowed faintly red beneath the mask slits.
"I was wondering how long you'd let me watch," she said. Her voice was elegant, but sharp, like a dagger sheathed in velvet.
Riven stood slowly.
"You're far from the capital, Envoy."
"I walk where the Court commands," she replied. "And where the Hollow Flame stirs… the Court now watches."
---
They stood in silence for a moment.
Then she spoke again.
"I am Selira Nythe, Herald of Eclipse and voice of the Inner Seat. I carry no deception with me today."
"Then what do you carry?" Riven asked, still on edge.
Selira reached behind her cloak.
She withdrew something long and wrapped in black velvet, tied with a ribbon of silver.
She tossed it.
Riven caught it.
His eyes narrowed.
Slowly, he unraveled the cloth—layer by layer, the memories rising with every thread.
Inside was a sword.
Velmoran steel. Silver hilt. Phoenix-crest carved on the blade's base.
He knew it instantly.
"Ashrend."
His father's sword.
---
Kael's eyes widened. "That's... that's the sword from the night of the fall."
Riven's breath caught.
He gripped the hilt, letting the familiar weight settle into his palm.
"How did you get this?" he asked Selira.
"We recovered it from the ruin outside Velmora," she said. "The Order never found it. Until recently, neither did we."
"And why bring it to me now?"
"Because the Eclipse Court is watching," she replied. "And they have... interest in your survival."
Riven's eyes narrowed. "You mean control."
"No," she said evenly. "They mean balance."
> "She's not lying," Veyron said thoughtfully. "But she's not telling the whole truth either."
---
Riven slid the blade back into the velvet and set it aside.
"You're trying to play both sides."
"The Court always plays both sides," Selira replied. "We are the tether between the Order and the Flame. Neither consumes the other... unless balance is lost."
"And I'm the imbalance."
Selira stepped closer. "You are the return. The rebalance. Your presence destabilizes everything. And that is why I am here."
"To threaten me?"
"To offer you a choice."
---
She withdrew a scroll from within her cloak and placed it before him.
"The Court will not move against you—yet. But you must choose a path. The Seals cannot be awakened carelessly. Their release affects ancient compacts tied to this world's very threads."
Riven frowned, unrolling the scroll.
It was a treaty fragment, written in two languages: Old Aetherran and Celestial Script.
At the bottom were three ancient symbols:
The Eye of the Eclipse
The Phoenix of Flame
And the Sigil of the Sealed Nine.
Riven traced the symbols with his finger.
"These were never meant to be unlocked by one person," he murmured.
"No," Selira agreed. "That's why the Court must oversee your journey. Guide you... and intervene if necessary."
---
Kael stepped forward. "And if we refuse?"
Selira turned her eyes to him.
"Then others will be sent in my place. Less diplomatic. Less restrained. And eventually, Riven will fall—either to the Flame... or to them."
Riven stood silent.
Ashrend weighed heavy in his grip.
He thought of Lyssae. Of Vaelen. Of the shattered past creeping back into his skin like cold fire.
"Why me?" he asked finally. "Why must I be the one to hold this curse?"
Selira looked at him through the mask.
> "Because you survived the Hollow Flame's fracture. And because... you still love the one who broke it."
---
Riven stepped back, as if struck.
Kael glanced at him, confused.
"What does that mean?"
Selira turned away.
"You will understand when you reach the Vault at Emberdeep."
She paused at the tree line.
"I will return in seven days. If you awaken the Second Seal without Court guidance... the Treaty will shatter."
"And if I burn the Treaty?" Riven asked coldly.
Selira glanced over her shoulder.
"Then pray that whatever wakes next... still remembers your name."
Then she was gone.
---
They stood in silence.
Kael finally broke it.
"She knew about your brother."
"She knew more than she said."
"You trust her?"
Riven looked down at the scroll.
"No."
"But I believe her warning."
---
That night, they camped beneath the canopy of violetglass trees. The fire cracked low. Riven sat beside it, Ashrend on his lap, the Seal Mark still glowing faintly on his palm.
> "You could burn the scroll," Veyron whispered. "Cut the leash. Walk your own path."
"I could," Riven murmured. "But something in her voice…"
> "Fear."
"Yes. But not fear of me. Fear of something worse."
> "Then the path grows darker."
Riven nodded slowly.
"I will find the Seals. But I won't follow the Court. And I won't serve the Order."
He looked to the stars—half-veiled behind clouds.
"I'll burn a new path."
---
Somewhere, far away, across Aetherra's hollow sky…
A massive mirror obelisk flickered with flame.
An old man in crimson robes watched it.
"The boy has touched the Flame again," he said.
Another robed figure stepped forward. "Then the Hollowborn will stir soon."
"And Vaelen?"
"He waits behind the third gate. Guarding what remains of the Flame's origin."
The old man smiled.
"Let the Ashborn burn a little longer. The world must remember why it feared Velmora."
---