Rain fell in slanted sheets as the imperial bells tolled far in the distance. The academy's skybridge, once a symbol of prestige and beauty, had turned into a corridor of quiet grief. Riven stood at its edge, his fingers curled against the cold stone balustrade. Water soaked through his uniform, but he didn't move. Not even when he heard the footsteps behind him.
Leila approached slowly, her long hair plastered to her shoulders. No umbrella. No hesitation.
"You're hiding," she said softly.
Riven didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, where the mountains cut through the sky like scars on a broken page.
"The Tribunal won't touch you," she continued. "I made sure of it."
"That's not what I'm worried about."
He turned toward her. The light was dim, the storm overhead smothering the sun, but even then she could see it—the flicker in his eyes. Something ancient. Something unraveling.
"I remember it now," he whispered. "The first death."
Leila's breath caught. "What do you mean?"
He stepped closer. Rain dripped from his chin. "I wasn't supposed to come back. This soul… it belonged to someone else. I took it. Or maybe it took me."
She touched his face. Gently. Tenderly. "You're not cursed. You're lost. That's not the same thing."
Riven almost smiled. Almost.
Later that night, the academy's Hall of Records flickered with blue flame. Riven stood alone before the obelisk of soul-ranks, pressing his hand to the obsidian. It hummed beneath his touch.
He came seeking confirmation.
Instead, the stone lit up in fractured gold.
"Unknown Sequence Detected," the obelisk whispered.
He pulled back instantly. Behind him, Professor Kael emerged from the shadows, eyes wide.
"You activated a forbidden layer," Kael said. "Only Sovereign-class souls can—"
Riven turned. "I didn't mean to."
Kael's face was pale. "That wasn't you. That was the thing inside you."
For a moment, silence wrapped them.
Then the obelisk spoke again. This time, in a voice that wasn't mechanical. It was smooth. Deep. And all too familiar.
"Riven Kestrel. Sequence 7 detected. Synchronization in progress."
The storm outside roared louder.
Riven whispered, "Eidolon."
Kael took a step back. "What did you just say?"
"Nothing," Riven replied, but he knew it was already too late. Whatever had been buried deep within him was no longer dormant.
And in that moment, in the space between thunder and breath, a mark began to glow on his chest—an ancient glyph, curved like a broken promise.
Leila stood outside the chamber, unseen, trembling.
She had heard it too.
And she finally understood: the boy she loved was no longer alone in his body.
He never had been.