Velhara – Outskirts of the Scorch Sprawl
Nightfall. Shadowstorm brewing.
Ash. Smoke. Distant screams. The slums of the Scorch Sprawl don't sleep—they twitch. Like a corpse refusing to rot.
Riven crouched in the dark, his fingers trembling as they grazed the cracked porcelain mask hanging from his neck. He hadn't worn it in days. He couldn't. Not after what happened in the Hollowzone.
"Don't put it on."
"Not yet."
"They'll see you. They'll smell it."
Whispers crawled through his mind like insects. He could feel them, tugging at his awareness, scratching at the edges of his sanity. His breath hitched, a cold sweat pooling on his forehead. It wanted to surface again. That thing inside him. The thing he had kept locked away for so long.
The mask. It never stopped calling. Even now.
But tonight was different. Tonight, the weight of the mask felt heavier, suffocating. And the worst part? He could hear it clearly.
"Put it on."
"Let me out."
The sound of boots—heavy, deliberate, dangerous—cut through the silence.
Soulhunters.
Three of them, clad in black armor, their cloaks billowing like shadows. Masked faces hidden behind reflective lenses. They were the Order's bloodhounds, creatures of unyielding law. But Riven knew better. They didn't patrol this side of the city unless they had a reason. And the reason was him.
He had been running for days, but sooner or later, the Order would find him. They always did. A Hollowborn, a failed experiment, a discarded weapon.
Prey.
Riven's hand tightened on the mask, the cool porcelain pressing against his skin. It was almost as if the mask was alive, breathing, waiting to devour him again.
He had to move. Run. Escape.
But then, the whispers came again. Louder. Urgent.
"Put it on, Riven. Let me take it from here."
No. Not yet.
Riven hesitated. His entire body screamed for him to act, but the voice, so cold, so different from his own thoughts, refused to leave him in peace.
Kairon.
"You'll die if you don't."
His vision blurred as he looked at the Soulhunters closing in. There was no escape, no way out. His breath hitched as he clutched the mask harder. Kairon was right.
He had no choice.
Riven forced himself to wear the mask. Click.
"Welcome back, Hollowborn."
Everything went still.
Then everything changed.
Kairon—the part of Riven that he both feared and loathed—took over. The world shifted, the colors dimmed, and his mind cleared. He wasn't Riven anymore. He wasn't the scared, broken man he used to be. He was something… else. Something born of cold calculation and unfeeling precision.
Riven's body—no, Kairon's body—moved with unnatural grace. It was as if the shadows themselves bent to his will, flowing through him like water.
The first Soulhunter took a step forward, his breath ragged beneath the mask. Kairon didn't speak. He didn't need to.
Slash.
In a single, fluid motion, Kairon's blade sliced through the Soulhunter's throat. Blood sprayed, but Kairon didn't flinch. He never flinched.
The second Soulhunter lunged. Too slow.
Shatter.
Kairon caught the Soulhunter's wrist, crushing the bone with his bare hand before spinning him into the rubble. The man collapsed, his mask cracked.
The third Soulhunter froze, his eyes wide with terror.
"W-what are you?" he gasped, his voice barely a whisper.
Kairon's lips curled into a smile—a smile that didn't belong to any living creature. "I am what you should have feared."
In the blink of an eye, Kairon was on him. His blade severed the man's head with one clean strike.
Silence.
The three Soulhunters were dead. The slums were quiet once more.
---
Kairon didn't bask in victory. There was no time for that. He turned toward the shadows and walked away, his steps silent.
Inside his mind, Riven watched helplessly as Kairon took the reins. He felt… cold. Detached. The mask's grip was stronger than ever.
"You killed them."
"They were prey. Nothing more."
But Riven's voice shook, tinged with regret. "I didn't want this. Not like this."
Kairon's response was a laugh, hollow and devoid of warmth.
"You never want this. But it is what you need."
The whispers in Riven's mind grew louder. Closer. Kairon was starting to fade, but the mask's power… the hunger… it wasn't finished.
Riven gripped the mask harder, his fingers slick with sweat.
"Not yet."
He wasn't ready. Not yet.