Submerged in the black, primordial depths of the Mana Pool, Riven lost all sense of time, all sense of self beyond the overwhelming reality of pain.
The potent, ancient energy wasn't like the Enclave's mana – it didn't soothe or harmonize; it invaded. It felt like liquid stone grinding against his bones, like icy fire flooding his veins, like raw, untamed life force trying to simultaneously rip him apart and fuse him into something denser, harder.
His dormant Marks flared erratically beneath his skin, involuntary bursts of chaotic red and violet light illuminating the dark water around him as his core essence recoiled violently against the invasive energy. He fought to maintain consciousness, focusing on the simple rhythm of holding his breath, counting the agonizing heartbeats, and clinging to Kairos's single command: Endure.
Thoughts scattered like leaves in a hurricane – fragments of the Crag's mission, Elmsa's guarded face, the dead eyes of the Grave-Root Beast, the cold calculation in Kairos's gaze. He pushed them away, focusing only on the searing, scouring sensation, letting it burn through him, praying he wouldn't dissolve into screaming atoms.
He didn't know how long he endured – minutes that felt like cycles, or perhaps only seconds that stretched into an eternity of agony. He felt his physical strength failing, his mental fortitude crumbling under the relentless assault. Blackness crept in at the edges of his awareness. The pain was becoming distant, his consciousness fraying, ready to snap...
Suddenly, the oppressive weight lessened fractionally. The scouring intensity dropped just enough for Riven to gasp mentally, pulling back from the brink of oblivion. Through the haze of pain, he sensed a presence nearby – Kairos had returned.
The ancient, dry voice echoed in the grotto, cutting through the roaring in Riven's ears. "Enough."
The command was simple and quiet, yet it carried an absolute finality. It wasn't an offer; it was a statement that this phase of the ordeal was complete.
"Emerge. Now."
Gathering the last vestiges of his willpower, Riven clawed his way upwards through the heavy liquid energy. He broke the surface with a choked gasp, air rushing into his burning lungs. He flailed weakly towards the edge, vision swimming, and hauled himself out onto the damp moss, collapsing instantly.
He lay there trembling uncontrollably, every inch of his skin raw and hypersensitive, his body feeling both intensely heavy and strangely buoyant, saturated with the pool's potent energy. Water streamed off him, pooling darkly on the glowing moss. He could barely lift his head.
Kairos stood over him, a tall, shadow against the grotto's soft light. Riven could see the results of his hunt lying nearby – a large, six-legged Umbralwood deer-like creature, its neck cleanly snapped, its faint energy signature already fading.
Kairos seemed to ignore the carcass, for now, his focus entirely on Riven. Those ancient, discerning eyes assessed Riven's state clinically.
"Your endurance," the voice rasped aloud, "is barely adequate. You possess a certain brute tenacity born of desperation, little more."
There was no praise, only blunt assessment.
"The vessel has been scoured, yes. Crudely. The foundation is cracked wide open, ready to be reshaped. But the raw mana saturating your system now is poison if left undirected. It will fester, amplify your inherent instability, and likely cripple your pathways permanently. You must learn to integrate it, immediately."
Riven managed to push himself up slightly, glaring weakly at the imposing figure.
"Integrate? I can barely… breathe…"
"Breathing is the key," Kairos stated, ignoring the complaint. "The Enclave taught you shallow cycling, harmonizing with their tame Root. Useless for chaotic energy. You will learn the Marrow Breath."
As Kairos spoke the name, the technique flowed into Riven's mind – not a gentle impartation like before, but a sharp, precise insertion of knowledge.
It was a complex breathing pattern synchronized with an internal visualization, designed to actively draw the absorbed mana out of the saturated flesh and into the very marrow of the bones, using the body's core structure as a forge to refine and bind the wild energy, tempering the physical foundation from the inside out. It felt ancient, demanding, and incredibly painful just contemplating it.
"Pain," Kairos continued, as if sensing Riven's trepidation, "is merely sensation. Use it. Focus on the discomfort. Draw the mana through the pain, into the bone. Let it burn away the weakness, forge resilience. This is the foundation required to contain a storm. Begin."
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Enclave Heartwood, Elmsa's Quarters.
Elmsa stared at the flickering projection on her data slate, displaying Warden Borin's latest patrol report from the western outer sectors.
'Sector Grid 9B sweep negative. Faint residual chaotic Signature detected near old Terminus conduit, rapidly dissipating. No tracks found matching subject's estimated stride or energy imprint beyond initial breach point. Expanding search perimeter northwest towards suspected ruin concentrations in Sector 8.'
Northwest. Towards the areas away from where she knew Riven might find clues related to Sector 7 if he survived long enough to use the map she'd ensured was in those 'basic' history scrolls.
Her subtle alteration to the search probability weighting in the tactical network seemed to be holding, nudging the primary hunt away from the most direct path Riven might instinctively take towards understanding his origins. For now.
She felt a familiar pang of anxiety, quickly suppressed. It was a dangerous game. If Thorn or Rowan, with their higher perception, ever truly focused their attention on her actions, her subtle misdirections wouldn't stand scrutiny. But they were focused on Riven, on the anomaly, on the potential threat he represented based on the Crags data. Her role as his long-time Tender provided a thin shield of credibility.
'He needs time,' she thought desperately. 'Time to learn, to control, to understand before they decide he's too dangerous simply to contain.'
Her secret goal – pushing him out to save him from the Elders' hidden plans – felt more precarious than ever now that he was truly gone, alone in the wilderness. She sent a carefully neutral acknowledgement back to Borin's team via the network, adding a minor suggestion to check a specific canyon system further north based on 'historical fungal migration patterns' – another subtle nudge away from Riven's likely trajectory, she hoped. Every small act of deception felt like balancing on a razor's edge over an abyss.
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Back to Riven in the Grotto
Agony. Riven gasped as he forced himself to follow the Marrow Breath technique Kairos had imparted.
Drawing a slow, deep breath as instructed, he visualized pulling the searing mana saturating his muscles inwards, towards the core of his bones. The sensation was excruciating, like forcing molten metal into his very marrow. His body convulsed, every nerve alight with protest.
"Focus!" Kairos's sharp command cut through the pain.
"Do not resist the integration. Guide it. Use the pain as the channel. Let it forge your body!"
Gritting his teeth until his jaw ached, Riven pushed through the agony, continuing the breathing pattern, visualizing the burning energy sinking deeper, binding to his bones. It felt like dying and being reborn simultaneously, a brutal reforging with nothing but sheer willpower. He could feel faint tremors starting deep within his skeletal structure. His marks, still visually dark, seemed to throb with a deeper, more fundamental ache now.
Kairos watched impassively from the shadows, offering no further aid, no word of encouragement. This was Riven's struggle alone. Exhausted, trembling, saturated with pain and power he couldn't yet control, Riven focused solely on the next breath, the next agonizing pulse of energy sinking into his marrow.
The foundation was being laid, stone by painful stone, in the heart of the wild Umbralwood, under the gaze of his new guide. The path to mastery had truly begun, and its first steps were paved with fire.