Aether City didn't sleep.
It flickered.
From the skyways to the lower sectors, light shimmered off the glass like the city itself was gasping between illusions. Neon trails cut across towers, weaving like veins through a giant, dreaming beast.
Riven stood on the edge of the Southward Overlook, watching the transit lines blur below.
His chest still pulsed.
The shard inside him — the Sorrow Anchor — had settled into silence. But it wasn't dormant.
It was listening.
---
That night, he'd returned to his dorm without a word. No questions. No messages. No lights.
Just silence.
But his sleep had not been empty.
He dreamed of mirrors that bled. Of thrones that crumbled.
And of voices — thousands of them — whispering in languages he didn't know, yet somehow understood.
One voice rose above them.
"You are not broken."
"You are the break."
---
He woke before dawn.
No alarms.
Just the sting of dried blood beneath his fingernails and a single golden hair across his pillow that wasn't his.
---
The academy was quiet at that hour. The halls had that sterile hush of too many screens left on standby. He walked alone, his boots echoing faintly on synth-stone.
He wasn't going to class.
He was being called.
He didn't know by who.
But the weight in his bones told him there would be no peace until he followed.
---
Sector 2-A.
Simulation Tower 4.
The one that had been under reconstruction for months — no access, no power, no assignments.
But when Riven touched the door…
It opened.
No beep.
No clearance scan.
No resistance.
Just recognition.
---
Inside was darkness.
Not empty — watchful.
A staircase led down, lined with smooth panels and faint pulse-lights that turned gold as he passed.
[Emotion Sync: 66% – Passive Awakening Continuing]
[Resonant Presence Detected Nearby]
The room at the bottom was spherical.
And occupied.
---
A single student stood in the center — slim, hooded, with a soft glow outlining her silhouette like the breach had followed her home.
Riven stepped forward slowly.
The girl turned.
Lyra.
---
"You followed it too," she said softly.
"I didn't have a choice."
She nodded. "Neither did I."
She raised her hand.
It trembled — not from fear, but from strain.
Light coiled around her fingers. Not spelllight. Not tech. Something else. Emotion made visible.
Sorrow.
But not his.
Hers.
"I saw you in the mirror," she said. "Not the breach one. The one in my room. It changed the night that thing bowed to you."
Riven's heart ticked once — a heavy, slow sound.
"What did it show?"
Lyra looked down.
"You. Standing above the city. And behind you…"
She looked up, voice breaking.
"...everything was burning."
---
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then the shard inside Riven pulsed sharply.
[Anchor Spike Detected – Ambient Emotional Feedback Breach Imminent]
He staggered.
Lyra stepped back.
And then it happened.
---
The air cracked.
Not lightning. Not tech.
Emotion.
A wave of raw, unfiltered memory burst from his chest — golden strands, like unraveling threads, whipped through the room.
One struck a mirror panel — it shattered instantly.
Another wrapped around the floor, turning it liquid with past regret.
And in the center, Riven collapsed to one knee, teeth clenched.
Images crashed over him.
A hand raised in flame.
A scream that cracked the sky.
A city turned to ash by his command.
He didn't remember doing it.
But his soul did.
---
Lyra dropped beside him, grabbing his shoulder.
"Riven—!"
He looked at her.
His eyes weren't brown anymore.
They weren't gold either.
They were both.
Burning at the edges.
---
Then it stopped.
The surge ended as quickly as it began.
The room was in ruins — mirrors broken, floor melted, air flickering.
And at the center…
Riven gasped.
"I… lost control."
Lyra didn't speak.
She just held onto him like she didn't know who she was holding — but she knew it was dangerous to let go.
---
Somewhere above, alarms began to pulse.
Instructors were coming.
And with them…
Consequences.