CHAPTER EIGHT: The Gate of Arcael
Blood remembers.
That was the first phrase that burned into Riven's thoughts as she stared at the mural.
Blood remembers, the way fire remembers heat, and darkness remembers light. Her fingers trembled as she touched the edges of the broken fresco, tracing the girl who wore her face—older, yes, and cloaked in shadows—but unmistakably her.
"'The Harbinger…'" she whispered.
Fynn stirred behind her, rubbing his eyes. His footsteps echoed down the stone corridor.
"You disappeared again," he said, yawning. "You know it's not safe wandering in ruins when you've got ancient powers you can't control."
"I couldn't sleep."
He stepped beside her, eyes flickering to the mural.
"Is that… you?"
"I think it's who I'm supposed to become."
They stood in silence.
Then Fynn, uncharacteristically quiet, asked, "Do you think that's a good thing?"
Riven didn't answer.
Because deep inside, she wasn't sure.
---
Kael knew she'd found the mural. He could hear it in her silence. The questions that piled up in her eyes, unspoken but heavier by the minute.
When she returned to their fire, he handed her something—an old scroll sealed in cracked wax.
"I wanted to wait," he said, "but you're running out of time."
Riven looked at it, wary. "What is it?"
"A prophecy. Older than the Council. Before the Five Tribes split. Before the wolves were cursed."
Fynn leaned in. "Wait—wolves weren't always cursed?"
Kael nodded. "Once, they were revered. Guardians of the Nine Realms. Until Arcael fell."
Fynn frowned. "You keep saying that name. What is Arcael?"
Kael's eyes darkened.
"Arcael was the realm of judgment. A place between life and death. Every soul passed through it before it was reborn or buried forever."
"And the Gate?"
"The Gate of Arcael… is the door between worlds. Locked shut centuries ago. For good reason."
Kael turned to Riven.
"Because if it opens again, the dead won't just walk. They'll rule."
---
The scroll was brittle with age, written in ink that shimmered faintly.
Riven read aloud:
> *"When the Moon bleeds thrice, and the Crown of Wolves is shattered,
A child born of silence and flame shall rise.
She shall speak the forgotten tongue.
She shall wear the mark of dusk.
One shall rise to open.
One shall rise to guard.
One shall rise… to betray."*
Riven's voice caught on the last line.
"'To betray,'" she repeated, quieter.
Fynn stepped back, frowning. "It's always like that. One chosen one, and a traitor. Classic storytelling."
Kael didn't laugh.
"That's because it's true."
---
Later, Riven sat alone, watching her reflection in a pool of still water.
The phrase repeated in her mind like a curse: One shall rise to betray.
Could it be Kael? No—he'd bled for her. Lied for her. Kept her alive when others would've killed her as a child.
Fynn? He was goofy. Clumsy. But loyal. At least, he had been.
Could it be… me?
A sudden noise shattered her thoughts.
Voices. Outside.
Kael was already at the entrance, sword in hand.
"Who is it?" Fynn hissed.
"Hunters," Kael growled. "Council scouts."
"How did they find us?"
Riven gritted her teeth.
"Because I led them."
The boys turned sharply toward her.
Her fists clenched. "Not on purpose. I've been hearing things since yesterday—dreams, whispers, my mother's voice. I think something's tracking me through it."
Kael's jaw tightened.
"They've marked you."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a tiny black stone etched with silver lines—runes of protection.
"I should've done this earlier," he muttered, placing it against her chest. "This should block the bond for now."
But it was too late.
The walls shook.
A scream split the air—inhuman—a howl laced with metal and madness.
Fynn swore. "That's not a scout."
"No," Kael said grimly. "That's a Ghoul Wolf."
---
The ground exploded.
A monstrous shape burst through the ceiling—its body twisted, bones protruding from its skin, eyes glowing red and hollow. It was massive, corrupted, stitched together by black magic and hatred.
Fynn summoned flame to his hands, barely dodging its claws.
"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?!"
"A failed Revenant!" Kael yelled. "They're experimenting again!"
Riven's body moved before her mind could think. A pulse rippled from her chest, freezing the beast mid-air. For a split second, time halted.
Its eyes turned to her.
And it spoke.
> "Harbinger… come… open the Gate…"
The vision hit her like a tidal wave.
---
She stood before the Gate.
It stretched across the sky—taller than mountains, forged from bones, blood, and forgotten tongues. Black chains wrapped around its hinges, pulsing with cursed energy.
A single keyhole sat in the center.
And in her hand—
A blade of pure flame.
She stepped closer—
And heard a voice behind her.
"Don't open it, Riven."
She turned.
It was Fynn.
But his eyes were wrong.
Red. Hollow. Just like the wolf.
"You're the one," she whispered.
His smile was sad. "I wish I wasn't."
---
Riven gasped, ripping herself out of the vision.
She stood in the ruins again.
The Ghoul Wolf was gone—reduced to ash around her feet.
Kael and Fynn looked shaken.
She turned to Fynn slowly.
"You saw it too," she whispered.
He didn't deny it.
"You were there," she continued. "At the Gate. You warned me."
He lowered his eyes. "I don't know what's happening to me, Riven. I swear I don't. But something's changing. Something dark."
Kael's hand went to his sword. "If he's compromised—"
"No," Riven snapped. "He's not the enemy."
Not yet.
But she couldn't forget the prophecy.
> One shall rise to betray…
---