Bloody Dawn and the Crimson Flame
The world had always been a cold place for me. But that coldness didn't come from the seasons; it came from the eyes of others.
"God..." I whispered, staring at my reflection in the mirror. "Why was I born cursed?"
The day I opened my eyes to this world, the midwife had reportedly fled the room screaming. The reason was clear: my ashen gray hair and the burning, demonic red glow in my left eye. People didn't just fear me; they were repulsed by me. My mother, Elira, would shudder every time she touched me, as if she were touching a serpent. And my father, Elandor... he was simply silent. He had built invisible, insurmountable walls between us.
They never allowed me outside. To them, I wasn't a child; I was a shame to be hidden, a danger to be suppressed.
But curiosity is a poison more potent than fear.
That night, as the moonlight seeped through the small window of my room, I couldn't take it anymore. I slipped out and vanished into the night. The air was cold enough to burn my lungs, but it felt intoxicatingly free. Until that voice rang out...
"A DEMON! THE CURSED CHILD IS OUTSIDE!"
That scream, tearing through the silent streets, froze my heart. As I ran toward home in terror, I could hear the furious footsteps behind me. When I burst through the door, my mother was awake. Her face was twisted into a horrific mask of fear and rage.
"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" she shouted. Her voice cracked like a whip across my face. As tears streamed down my cheeks, my father rushed in. He pressed me against his chest—tighter than he ever had before. "It's okay... You're here. It will pass," he whispered. But it wouldn't.
When the sun rose, the house was surrounded by an angry mob. Voices shouting "GIVE US THE CURSED BOY!" shook the very walls.
My mother grabbed me and shoved me into the dark closet at the end of the hallway. Her hands were trembling. She cupped my cheeks in her palms and looked deep into my eyes. "No matter what happens... never make a sound, Riven. Never."
She shut the door on me.
I watched through the cracks of the closet. My father stood before the door like a titan. "I would rather die than give you my son!" he bellowed. He threw a stone, trying to hold back the crowd. But rage was stronger than logic.
The door broke. The first thing the invaders did was seize my mother.
My mother's screams... they still echo in my ears. She begged for mercy, falling to her knees. But in the eyes of those villagers, there was no mercy—only blind hatred. An axe blow, a low grunt, and my mother's lifeless body hit the floor.
The world stopped in that moment. I wanted to scream, to shout until my lungs tore... but terror choked the voice in my throat. When my mother's blood seeped under the closet and reached my feet, my father burst in. He scooped me up and headed for the back door.
"RUN, RIVEN! DON'T LOOK BACK!"
I didn't want to leave my mother. I reached for her, but my father's claw-like grip dragged me away. "Live... please... just live," he whispered one last time.
That night, as I disappeared into the darkness of the forest, I made a vow to myself. Those villagers, their families, this disgusting world they defend... they would all burn. For every drop of my mother's blood, I would burn a city.
I ran for days. My throat was raw from pain and crying. But something stronger than the fire of revenge took hold of my body: Hunger.
My stomach was clawing at itself. I heard a weak rustle in the bushes. A chicken. I approached silently. I was no longer a child; I was a predator. When I caught the chicken, I had neither the time nor the strength to build a fire.
As the warm blood filled my mouth, I tore the raw meat away with my teeth. It was disgusting... but I had to survive. "Mother would be angry... then she would laugh... I miss her so much..."
Tears soaked the earth as I curled up beneath a tree. "Revenge... I must survive so I can kill them all."
Just then, that voice from the depths of my mind turned the world to black.
"Do you desire vengeance?"
When I opened my eyes, I was in a void of pure white. "Who are you?!" I shouted.
A low, echoing laugh was heard. "I am the Demon King."
"What?! Why are you in my dream?!"
"Your thirst for revenge summoned me, Riven. That red fire within you... it is my legacy."
"How is that possible— AAGH!!"
My left eye suddenly ignited. It felt as if a thousand white-hot needles were passing through it. The white void began to turn a blood-red.
"Ah... I apologize. It was too soon," the voice said in a mocking whisper. "But this is only the beginning. Every time you open your eye, you will see the world differently."
I woke up drenched in cold sweat. My left eye was still throbbing, but it was different now. I could feel the energy of the trees around me, the scent of moisture in the air, and even the fear of those villagers miles away.
My curse had awakened. But it was no longer a curse. It was my blade..
… .. … … . . . … . . . . . . . . … . . . . . . . . . ..
The Shattered Silence and a Father's Resolve
I ran to my mother's side, my heart hammering against my ribs like a trapped bird. The cold that slipped through the cracks of our worn wooden door made the air in the room feel heavy, almost suffocating.
"What's happening, Mother?" I asked, forcing the words out through a throat that felt like it was filled with glass. My voice trembled, betraying the terror I tried so hard to hide.
Elira's eyes flashed like dying embers in the dim light; her breath was short, ragged. She laid a shaking, ice-cold hand on my cheek, her touch both a comfort and a goodbye. "Riven! Get inside, now!" she whispered. It wasn't just an order; it was a desperate plea from a woman who knew the end was near. There was a frantic panic in her gaze, yet beneath it, a fierce, protective tenderness burned. It took me a moment to understand how love and terror could inhabit the same look so completely.
Then, the voices from outside fell over our house like a suffocating shadow. What had started as a distant, indistinct murmur had sharpened into a jagged cry:
"Give us the cursed child! We won't harm the rest of you if you hand the demon over!"
The words were filthy, dripping with a primal hatred that made the very windows seem to tremble in their frames.
My father, Elandor—a man usually as calm as a still lake—was transformed. His movements were clipped, his jaw set so tight I thought his teeth might shatter. He walked toward the door with heavy, determined steps that echoed throughout the small house. He peered through the narrow gap, then turned back to us, his eyes meeting mine for a fleeting second.
"I'd rather die than give you my son!" he bellowed, his voice booming with a strength I never knew he possessed. But the fear vibrating beneath his words was impossible to hide. He snatched a heavy stone from the floor, his knuckles turning white as he clenched it, and flung it through the opening. As the rock flew, the crowd's murmur swelled into an angry, monstrous roar—a surge of fury that felt wild, dangerous, and utterly unstoppable.
The villagers outside grew more enraged with every passing second. Curses echoed through the air, mixing with the sound of objects being hurled against our walls. The mob at the gate rose like a dark tide, and the sick excitement dancing in their eyes made my skin crawl.
My mother pulled me close, her grip almost painful, and shoved me behind the heavy oak wardrobe. The cold, rough wood pressed against my back. I could feel her knees trembling against the floorboards; when she turned to me, her lips quivered uncontrollably. Her gaze snapped to my eyes—those cursed red eyes that had brought this doom upon us.
"No matter what happens... stay silent," she whispered, her voice barely louder than a breath. Her lips tightened as if she were trying to convince herself of my safety as much as she was commanding me.
She shut the door, plunging me into darkness.
Through a narrow crack in the wood, I watched my father. He stood at the door, bracing his entire body against the wood as the mob began to hammer from the other side. "Do not come in!" he cried, and for a heartbeat, his voice was so resolute that the tightness in my chest eased.
But that relief was a lie.
A hand suddenly shoved through a splintering gap in the door. The chaos intensified as the barrier gave way. I heard the sickening thud of boots and the desperate struggle as someone was seized. Then, a sound filled every corner of the house, a sound that would haunt my dreams forever: my mother's scream. It was long, broken, and filled with an agony that transcended physical pain.
Time stretched and warped. The creak of furniture, the thud of heavy boots, and the bloodthirsty shouts blended into a single, terrifying roar. I saw her—my mother—pleading on her knees, her voice knotting in her throat: "Please… please… just leave him be…"
But these men were no longer neighbors; they were monsters. No one wanted to hear a mother's pleas.
From the cramped darkness of my hiding place, everything became a blur of horror. I pressed my eye to the crack, watching her. Her hands opened and closed as if reaching for a ghost; her skin had turned a ghostly, translucent pale. Something had gone out of her eyes—the light, the hope, the life.
In an instant, my world shattered. I watched her body collapse to the floor, becoming still, becoming wrong. The moment froze, as if time itself had been trapped in that blood-stained room.
I wanted to scream. A volcano of grief and rage rose inside me, but the air wouldn't reach my lungs. Something heavy and cold choked my throat. My hands shook so violently I could barely stay upright. Then, a sound ripped out of me—not a human cry, but the sound of something fundamental breaking inside my soul. My sight darkened, the edges of my vision bleeding into red.
Suddenly, the wardrobe door was flung open. My father was there, his arms clamping around me with bruising force. His face was ashen, his lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line.
"RUN, RIVEN!" he shouted. His voice was no longer just an order; it was a desperate prayer. In his eyes, I saw a devastating mix of helplessness and a love so profound it transcended fear. The strength in his hands had sharpened into a singular will: to sacrifice everything so I might live. Though every instinct I possessed screamed at me to stay, to crawl to my mother's side, my father's arms demanded escape.
I glanced back one last time. My mother's face—the tiny, final nod she gave, the unspoken word that died on her lips—remained a nightmare burned into the back of my eyelids. I felt a piece of me being ripped away, leaving a jagged, bleeding hole in its wake.
My father dragged me out into the dark, unforgiving streets. Our feet threw up clods of frozen earth as we sprinted toward the treeline, our breaths rising like ghosts in the moonlight.
That night, beneath the canopy of the silent forest, I made a vow. The words barely left my lips, but within me, they glinted like a sharpened blade:
"One day... I will take revenge. Every house, every soul... they will all burn."
The words echoed through the silence of the woods, merging with the cold clarity of the Demon King's whisper in the back of my mind. From that moment on, Riven the child was dead. Only the vessel for the curse remained.. . … . . .
… .. . … … … .. … . . . . . … . … .. . . . …. .
The night pressed its suffocating darkness through the towering pines, the wind's low moan striking the needles like a broken, mournful melody. Above, the moon was nothing more than a thin, silver crescent; its pale light barely brushed the forest floor, leaving me stranded in a world of shifting shadows. Inside me, something sparked—a volatile mixture of rage, grief, and a hollow, aching void. I could no longer tell where the pain ended and the anger began.
"How will I kill them… damn it all," I muttered into the dark. My voice sounded like a funeral prayer whispered over an open grave. My fists were clenched so tight that my nails bit into my palms, drawing blood. In my mind's eye, every flicker of light from the village windows was a stain of my mother's blood. "Rot in hell, you monsters… people of the village… just wait. I'll burn your homes to ash until nothing but silence remains!"
The shout dissolved into the night, but the fire in my ribs only grew.
Suddenly, my stomach twisted with a primal, humiliating hunger. It was animalistic—a gnawing beast that didn't care about my grief. "Curse it… curse it all," I spat. The hunger and the hatred were tearing at me simultaneously, competing for control of my broken body.
"Mother… Father… they're gone. It can't be… what am I supposed to do?" Their names fell from my lips like heavy stones dropped into a deep well. "Mom… I miss you… Dad…" Each word scattered into the cold air, unanswered.
"WHY?! Why, damn you!?" I screamed at the sky, my eyes burning. "God… why did you make me like this?! Damn you! Because of you… because of this curse… they are dead!" My hatred spread through my veins like a slow-acting poison, turning my blood cold.
A restless dark circled my vision. Then, my stomach clenched with a sound so sharp it felt like something inside me was screaming for life. I dropped to my knees, burying my hands into the damp earth. Every breath I took seemed to magnify the ache.
Rustle.
A faint sound came from the brambles. Something was moving. A chicken—a fragile, clucking creature lost in the bushes. Even with my sight dimmed by tears and exhaustion, I moved. My movements felt ritualistic, driven by an instinct I didn't know I possessed. I closed in, a shadow among shadows.
I reached out with shaking hands and caught the bird. My heart hammered with a primitive mix of relief and crushing shame. "Use a stone… do it now! DAMN IT!" a raspy voice commanded from my own throat. I found a heavy stone and struck with a hard, desperate arc.
The sound of the impact cracked something inside me. Warm blood slicked my fingers, and for a fleeting moment, a bitter disgust washed over me. "Good… now eat. Gross, but… survive," I whispered with a twisted, bitter grin.
With every raw, metallic bite I swallowed, my mother's voice returned to me: "Riven, eat; you must keep your strength." I could almost feel her touch on my hair, hear her soft laughter. Those memories lodged in my chest like rusted nails. "I miss her…" I murmured, my tears soaking the soil as I curled into a ball. A burning shame for staying alive warred with a sharpening, lethal purpose for revenge.
I lay on the cold earth, surrounded by the scent of pine and damp rot, shivering as a heavy, drowsy sleep began to take hold. "Revenge… I must live for revenge," I repeated like a mantra until my mind opened to a dark, beckoning unknown.
Then, the world went white.
THE DREAM BEGINS
Everything was a void of pure white—no edges, no shadows, no air. The silence was so thick it rang in my ears like a physical weight. Then, a voice, distant yet crystalline, pierced the emptiness:
"DO YOU DESIRE VENGEANCE?"
I spun around, but there was nothing. "Who are you!?" I shouted, my voice flat and echo-less.
The voice drew closer, carrying a cold, mocking smile in its tone. "I am… the Demon King."
"What?! No… why are you in my dream!?"
"Your thirst for revenge called to me, Riven. It is a delicious cry."
"How do you know my name!?" I cried, but the answer was a low murmur that made my skin crawl.
Then, my eye—AHH! MY EYE!! It felt as if my left eye was being torn open from the inside by a white-hot blade. The pain was so agonizing I dropped to my knees, clutching my face. "Sorry… I suppose it is a bit early," the voice cooed mockingly as I writhed in the void.
The Demon's voice curled around me like freezing smoke: "This… is only the beginning."
I snapped awake on the cold forest floor, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The weight of the dream still pressed on my chest. "What… was that? Damn it…" I breathed, caught between a paralyzing fear and a dangerous curiosity.
The burning in my eye remained—raw, insistent, and powerful. My curse had awakened, and there was no going.
… .. . . . . . . … . . … . . … . . … … … . . ..
The Sealed Door Within
A sealed door inside me felt as though its hinges had buckled, spewing rust. With every step I took, my body shook violently, and my fingertips throbbed as if they were being stitched with needles made of ice. This wasn't just the external cold; it was a tremor rising from the deepest part of my soul, rattling my very bones. The relentless burning in my eyes gave way to a warm wetness. When I brought my hand to my face, what stained my fingers wasn't tears—it was dark, metallic-smelling blood. Then came that warmth seeping from my nose... My body was on the verge of collapse, but I had no right to stop.
Whenever my mind clouded, that dream—that horrific nightmare—returned. Pitch-black, bottomless eyes... Lime-white teeth ready to tear prey apart, and that sinister, pale grin. Even the mere sight of the bird on his right shoulder was enough to make my knees give out.
"Damn it," I groaned, my voice lost in the wind. "Why are you so strong? I'm only twelve years old... I've lost everything, wasn't that enough?"
I pressed on. The earth beneath my feet felt as though it wanted to swallow me, pulling me a little deeper with every step. Thousands of voices screamed simultaneously inside my brain; my mind was turning into a battlefield. And that hunger... The chicken I had eaten just moments ago felt as if it had never existed; my stomach emptied like a black hole. This time, it wasn't just a stomach growl; it was a wild, animalistic craving. If a human were to appear before me now, I wanted to pounce without a second thought, to feel that fresh flesh between my teeth. Though the thought made me loathe myself, the curse tore through my willpower like a sheet of paper.
The silhouette of a new village emerged from the darkness. The burning in my eyes had reached a blinding level; I could feel my left side turning into a glowing red ember, the curse struggling to burst outward. I couldn't change the past; I couldn't erase the bloody trails I had left behind. My only choice was to walk toward the future, toward those foreign lights.
When I reached the village entrance, two heavily armored guards blocked the path. From beneath their helmets, they looked at me—this half-dead child appearing in the middle of the night—with a mixture of disgust and curiosity.
"Child? What are you doing here at this hour?" one asked, lowering his shield slightly.
My voice came out cracked and weak: "My family... I lost my family. They raided my village, they killed everyone."
One of the guards approached and patted my head with compassion. In that moment, I froze. I was terrified they would notice the redness in my eye; if they saw me like this, they would take me for one of those "monsters" and kill me on the spot. "Go inside, little one, look after yourself," they said.
I staggered into the village. To my right, the scent of food wafted through the air. A master craftsman stood at a stall, slicing bread with a knife. I was so hungry that my vision was blurring. I didn't have a single cent in my pocket.
"Mister..." I said, my voice trembling. "I'm very hungry. Just a slice of bread is enough, please... I don't want more."
The man grimaced as if he were looking at a bug. "Get out of here! No food for the poor or beggars, move along!" he roared.
My breath hitched. I bowed my head, covering my face with my hands to hide the aching fire in my eyes. I could feel my left eye glowing like a live coal in my palms. As the blood seeped between my fingers, I slowly lowered my hands and raised my head. When my gaze locked onto the man's eyes, the wild voice inside me whispered: "If he won't give you bread, take his flesh..."
The man simply dropped the knife on the table. His breath had hitched in his throat. Before him stood only a twelve-year-old, trembling brat, but in that moment, time stood still. A voice inside the man screamed: "I have fought on fronts for years, I have slit the throats of the fiercest monsters, but I have never seen anything like this. This child... this thing... could tear me to pieces in seconds. If I move an inch, he will rip the vein right out of my throat, I'm certain of it."
The man was frozen to the marrow. For the first time, he felt such terror—not from a monster, but from the gaze of a child. Riven's head tilted slightly to the side, looking over his right shoulder with such a silent, wordless threat that it echoed in the man's ears: "Either you give me that bread, or I kill you."
With a trembling hand, the man reached for the old sword beneath the counter. Just as he prepared to strike to suppress his fear, a sharp, mocking voice rang out from the crowd:
"Whoa, whoa! What are you doing, big master? Aren't you ashamed to draw a sword on a brat?"
The man's focus shattered for a moment; that lethal spell was broken. From the side, a man covered in dust with an arrogant smirk appeared. He stepped between us with a relaxed demeanor.
"Drop that rusty iron, master," the man said, turning his gaze to Riven. "The kid is just hungry. Look at the state of him, he barely has the strength to stand."
The red fire in Riven's eye seemed to slowly fade at the sound of the stranger's voice, but the savage hunger inside him still howled like a wolf. The stranger approached Riven and looked into the boy's eyes with that peculiar smile. It was as if he, too, had noticed something—but instead of being afraid, he seemed curious.
"Come along, little brat," he said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "The master's bread is stale... Come, let's get you a real feast."
He leaned in slightly, his eyes narrowing. "Of course... if you can still eat like a human. Otherwise..." His lips curled into a thin smile. "The menu changes… . .
… . … .. . … … . . . … . … . . . . . . . … .
The heavy pressure in the room was the final straw for the Master's patience.
He lunged forward in an instant.
He seized Riven by the collar, jerking him forward with such force that not even a finger's width of space remained between them. Riven's feet left the ground.
The Master stared straight into that glowing left eye.
"Look at me, brat!" he roared.
"My rules apply here. If I hear those words come out of your mouth again… I'll rip that eye out and feed it to you. Do you hear me?"
The woman pushed her plate aside and leaned back.
She didn't look frightened at all.
"Oh boy…" she sighed.
"I don't care if you throat-cut each other or smash the table to pieces."
But her eyes remained fixed on Riven.
This kid isn't normal. The boy standing in the back had turned pale as a ghost.
The killing intent radiating from Riven had frozen the very air in the room.
"Master!" he cried out, trembling.
"This kid is dangerous! He could kill one of us at any moment!"
Riven… was still suspended in mid-air.
Yet, not a single muscle twitched.
He kept his gaze locked onto the Master's eyes.
And in that moment—
The atmosphere in the room shifted.
The candle flames began to flicker wildly.
The lights pulsed as if they were about to die out.
Shadows on the walls stretched and twisted.
As if… they were alive.
A cold sweat trickled down the Master's back.
For the first time…
For the first time while looking into a child's eyes, his instincts were screaming at him to back away.
This… is not human. But he didn't loosen his grip.
"Hey, old man…" Riven said.
His voice was a whisper, but it was laced with venom.
"Let go."
A brief silence.
"You have three seconds."
The Master's jaw tightened.
"What did you just say to me, you—"
"If you don't…" Riven said, without blinking.
"I'll cut that finger off."
A moment.
Silence.
Then—
"One…"
Riven's muscles tensed.
"Two…"
His fingers twitched slightly.
The Master saw it.
And he didn't wait.
Before Riven could say "three"—
THWACK! The Master's hand struck the back of his neck.
Sharp.
Precise.
Merciless.
Riven's eyes widened for a split second.
Then—
His body went limp.
The heavy pressure vanished instantly.
The candles steadied.
The shadows retreated.
The room breathed once more.
Riven's lips moved one last time.
"You… old geezer…"
His eyes drifted shut.
"…I'm going to kill you."
⛓️
Hours had passed.
When Riven opened his eyes, he felt as if every bone in his body was aching.
But the pain wasn't the main issue.
He couldn't move.
His arms and legs were bound with thick ropes, and heavy iron chains were wrapped around him, pinning him to an old chair. The chains dug into his skin at the slightest movement, their coldness seeping into his very marrow.
Two people stood before him.
The woman.
And that boy.
The door creaked open.
The Master entered.
His footsteps echoed through the room.
He stopped in front of Riven.
For a while, he just watched.
Then, he spoke.
"We're going to make a decision, brat."
"Either execution… or obedience."
A short pause.
"Which one?"
Riven's lips slowly curled.
A dark laugh rose from his throat.
"Don't make me laugh…"
The chains strained.
"I'd rather slit my own throat," he said through gritted teeth,
"than be your slave."
He lifted his head.
His eyes flared.
"You have two choices."
The room grew heavy again.
"Either you kill me now…"
A short breath.
"Or when I get free—"
He smiled.
"I'll hunt you all down."
Silence.
The boy took a step back.
But he pulled himself together.
"You're still talking?" he said irritably.
"The Master just took you down in one hit!"
Riven turned his head toward him.
That savage grin returned.
"You weren't saying that back at the restaurant…" he said in a low voice.
"You were shaking like a kitten."
He tilted his head slightly.
"Don't talk big to me now that I'm in chains."
The boy's face flushed red.
The woman slammed her hand on the table.
"Enough."
Her voice was firm.
"The Master will decide. We don't have time to listen to your threats."
The room fell into silence once more.
But this silence…
Was the calm before the storm….. . . . ..
… … .. … .. . . . . . . . . … . . … . . … .
The air in the room had shifted after the chains were loosened.
But this wasn't freedom… it was merely a new beginning.
I looked at the Master and the woman.
"Can you finally unbind these chains? Fine, I'll be with you, but you will teach me how to use this power. If you're lying, rest assured, I can truly erase you from this world. I may be inexperienced, I may be clumsy for now, but things change when you face the monster inside me. Come on, undo them."
The woman smirked.
"We don't owe you any lies. We'll use each other, that's all."
Then she turned to the 14-year-old boy.
"Unbind him."
The boy took a step back. His voice was trembling.
"Sister, please... He might kill me while I'm doing it. I'm truly afraid, I can't do it."
The Master sighed.
"How did I raise you to be such a coward..."
He came over and began to undo the chains. The metal felt as if it were embedded in my wrists.
"Be a little gentle, will you!" I snapped.
"Shut up and be glad we're even releasing you," he grumbled.
The chains hit the floor with a heavy clang.
As I rubbed my arms, the Master and the woman headed toward the door.
"Follow us. You'll eat your meal. Go to the room on the right."
I looked at the food on the table.
Everything… looked a bit too good.
But that dark voice inside me immediately whispered:
"Wouldn't you be more satisfied… if you ate human flesh instead of food?"
I took a step toward the man.
Then I stopped.
Stay calm, Riven… not now.
I sat at the table.
"Sit down, son," the Master said.
I didn't answer.
They began to pray before the meal.
I simply stared at my plate.
Hunger was clouding my vision.
I pulled the plate toward me and started eating.
But at the very first bite—
I froze.
That taste…
It was familiar.
My mother.
A lump formed in my throat. My breath hitched.
I pushed the chair back sharply and stood up.
The woman knit her brows.
"Where are you going?"
"Bathroom…" I said in a clipped voice.
The Master turned to the boy.
"Go after him—" he was about to say—
Then he stopped.
I lifted my head.
That darkness from before, that murderous gaze…
It was gone.
In its place—
A stillness had come.
A warmth.
A familiar… almost forgotten feeling.
I looked into the Master's eyes.
This time…
Not like a monster.
Just like a child.
"Don't worry…" I said in a soft voice.
"I won't run away."
Everyone in the room fell silent.
The woman froze.
The boy held his breath.
The Master…
For the first time, he hesitated.
Without a word, I turned my back.
With slow steps, I entered the bathroom.
I locked the door.
I looked in the mirror.
The face looking back…
Was mine.
But it wasn't, either.
"What is happening to me…?" I whispered.
My eyes filled with tears.
"I really miss… my family…"
I lifted my head.
I looked into my own eyes.
My left eye…
It was still burning.
That red glow…
It was terrifying.
But—
At the same time…
I liked it.
The corners of my mouth curled slightly.
"Is this me…"
A brief silence.
"…or is it him?"
My reflection in the mirror…
seemed to smile back at me... … .. . . .
The floor was damp; the rhythmic slap-slap of my bare feet against the cold stone tiles began to grate on my nerves. It was a hollow, irritating sound—an echo of the void screaming inside me. But the noise wasn't the worst part. My body was betraying me. Again.
A sudden, violent shiver racked my frame. This wasn't the chill of the night; it was a frost rising from within, a glacial tide turning my blood into sludge. My fingers began an uncontrollable, frantic dance. I clenched them into fists, shoving them deep into my pockets, but the tremors climbed up my arms, rattling my very soul.
"Please... not now," I hissed under my breath, my lungs burning as if I were inhaling needles. "Not yet."
When I pushed the heavy wooden door open and stepped back into the room, the Master was waving a hand dismissively, a casual grin plastered on his face. "Hey, hey! Took you long enough, brat. Did you get lost in your own reflection?"
I didn't answer. I couldn't. If I opened my mouth, I feared a snarl would escape instead of words. I walked past him—every step a grueling battle of willpower—and slumped into my chair. Under the table, hidden in the shadows of my pockets, my knuckles were white. I needed a distraction. I needed to anchor myself to reality before the red fog in my eye consumed everything. I looked up, my gaze darting between them.
"Your names," I rasped, my voice sounding like grinding stones. "Who are you?"
Sensing the shift in the air, the old man narrowed his eyes. "You can call me Master for now," he said. The woman added in a sharp, clinical tone: "And I am Vaelin." I turned my eyes to the boy. He flinched, pulling his shoulders up to his ears. "I'm... Max," he stammered.
I took a jagged breath. The scent of the room had changed. The aroma of the stew was gone, replaced by something far more intoxicating. The metallic tang of blood. The warmth of living skin. My vision began to pulse in time with the Master's heartbeat. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. He wasn't a man anymore. He was a mountain of marbled protein. A feast.
My mouth flooded with saliva. I leaned forward, my forearm thudding onto the table; the wood creaked under my sudden weight. "Master..." I whispered, my left eye glowing with an infernal, predatory light. "Can I... eat you? Just a little? I really need to kill someone right now."
The air in the room froze. I slowly pointed my finger at Max, tilting my head to the right until a sickening crack echoed from my neck. I bit my lip so hard I finally felt a sting; it burst, and a hot, metallic taste spread across my tongue. I began to suck my own blood, hoping this small sacrifice would fill the gaping abyss inside me.
"I really want to eat you," I whispered. "You look... so delicious."
Max couldn't take it anymore and lunged at me. But the red mist in my vision turned his every move into slow motion. With a slight maneuver, I evaded his attack, my eyes locked on the Master. "Master! Help me... or I will truly spill blood in this room! I want to kill Max, and I can do it! Hurry, I can't hold back anymore!"
Before the Master could intervene, Vaelin's blade sliced through the air. The cold steel severed my finger in a single, merciless stroke. Pain struck my brain like a lightning bolt; I began to howl. But the blood gushing from my finger was so plentiful that the warm pool on the floor flowed directly toward my mouth. Instinctively, I began to lap up my own blood. As it hit my stomach, I felt that horrific hunger begin to subside.
But the real shock was yet to come. Within seconds, flesh and bone knit themselves back together. My finger reformed as if it had never been cut. The Master was paralyzed with horror. Max approached with trembling steps. "What... what are you?" he hissed. "You're nothing but a monster wearing a human mask!"
I stood up slowly, flexing my fingers in the air, listening to the satisfying cracks of my bones. I turned my gaze to Vaelin. "I will kill you," I said with a cold breath. "How dare you cut my fingers!"
I lunged forward in a rage. Vaelin tried to counter, Max tried to pounce on me, but everything was too slow. With a swift movement, I slipped past their attack and stepped back. I nonchalantly scratched my hair. "Why are you so surprised? Didn't we say we would use each other?"
"Hey, Master! If you don't teach me how to control myself within a week, I swear I will kill you all! You know you can't defeat the monster inside me, don't you? I may be twelve years old, but I know this pain. I lost my family; I have nothing left to lose!"
A dark, twisted smile spread across my face. "Kill me? I kill when I'm hungry because my stomach is more important than anything. But carve this into your minds: I will absolutely slaughter those who murdered my family. Especially that man who killed my mother... I will torture him so badly he will go insane. I will kill him and bring him back, then kill him again! He will beg me for death; he will crawl at my feet for me to take his life!"
... … .. .. … .. … … .. … .. . . . . . . . .
As the damp cold of the dungeon seeped into my skin, the Master's uncompromising voice echoed in my ears. Just before throwing me into this hole, he had looked deep into my eyes and laid out those three cursed rules:
"Listen well, Riven," the Master had said, his voice as cold as a grave. "In this trial, you will want to die, but I won't let you.
First: You will have thirty chickens with you. They aren't just animals; they are the executioners of your patience.
Second: The fewer chickens you kill, the better. If you keep them all alive, it means you've mastered control—but that is impossible.
Third: You will not close your eyes for an entire week. No sleep, no rest. You will be left alone with that entity inside you."
"Simple," I had muttered at the time. I just had to close my eyes and dive deep; how hard could it be? But when the heavy iron door slammed in my face and the silence was replaced by the maddening clucking of thirty chickens, I realized how wrong I was.
"Calm down," I whispered to myself. "Calm down, Riven, you can do this. Just think of it like the eye-closing games I used to play with my mother and father..." But when a chicken hopped onto my head and screeched, I snapped. "Get the hell off me!" I barked, flinging it into the darkness. "Don't get in my way!"
I closed my eyes again. I repeated it like a mantra: Suppress the monster, suppress the monster...
Suddenly, it echoed in my mind. A harsh, deep voice that vibrated through my very soul. I found myself in a vast white void, feeling as free as if I were floating in the air. But this peace was short-lived. He appeared... with those white teeth, the crow on his right shoulder, and that sinister smirk: The Demon King.
"Forgive me," I said, standing my ground. "If this is a gift from God, what the hell are you doing here?"
"Does it concern you, brat!" he roared. A bargain began between us. He wanted my body; I only wanted his power. "Even if you die, your body will pass to me," he said arrogantly. "Just as your fingers rejoined when they were cut... You are a mere apprentice now, but when you evolve, you will be something akin to immortal. You cannot die. And I will take your body at the first opening."
At that moment, the crow appeared on my left shoulder and bit my ear off. In reality, my ear was still there, but the pain in my mind was so real... I opened my eyes with a scream.
That was when hell truly began.
When I opened my eyes, the sound of those chickens was no longer just clucking. It was exploding in my brain like the screams of thirty thousand people. The fire in my village, my mother's final whispers, the curses of the villagers... My ears weren't just ringing; it felt like thousands of needles were stabbing into my brain.
"SHUT UP! ALL OF YOU, SHUT UP!" I bellowed.
My vision turned blood-red. I swung my claws in the dark, not knowing what or who I was hitting. Feathers flying in the air, the sound of snapping bones, and that acrid scent of blood... Within seconds, that massive noise stopped. I was panting in the absolute silence that followed.
I felt a warmth in my hand. Looking down, I realized I was clutching the neck of the last surviving chicken. My fingers were locked tight; I could turn it to dust with a single move. But just then, my father's final warning flashed through my mind like lightning:
"RUN, RIVEN! DON'T LOOK BACK!"
My father's voice pulled me back from that savage darkness. I slowly loosened my grip. With trembling hands, I placed the chicken down among the bloody feathers. "Go..." I whispered. "I can only handle your voice. Go and wait silently."
I slumped against the wall. Outside the door, I could sense Vaelin's shock as those thirty thousand voices were silenced in an instant.
"Did you think I couldn't do it?" I shouted toward the door. "I'm still here! I'm still Riven!"
The dark voice inside me laughed, but this time, it went silent. I looked at my bloody hands. I had a week left. The Master was right; I wanted to die, but my father's legacy was keeping me alive.