The forge still smelled of steel and soot.
Riven leaned against a half-melted anvil, eyes locked on the embers faintly glowing beneath the grates. No fire should've remained—it hadn't been lit in years. But the glow pulsed. Faint. Steady.
Like a heartbeat.
His.
Or something else's.
[Alert: Unknown Mana Signature Detected – Object Classification: Artifact (Sealed)]
Riven moved closer.
Beneath the ash and rusted tools lay a tiny compartment, barely visible. He pried it open—and found a wrapped bundle covered in sootcloth. Inside was a pendant.
Old. Forged from what looked like black iron and dragonbone. Familiar, yet wrong. His breath hitched.
It was his father's.
Back when he was still a blacksmith, before poverty and shame smothered the man's fire, he used to wear it every day—until the day he vanished.
Tied to the cord was a tightly folded paper, brittle from time and heat.
Riven unfolded it slowly.
His father's handwriting clawed at his heart.
"If you're reading this, it means you've awakened—and you're in danger.""They will come for you. Not for what you are. But for what you might become.""There is a second class. Buried deeper than the others. The Chaos is only a veil.""Do not trust the Headmaster. He is not what he seems."
Riven's eyes flew over the rest—coordinates. Symbols. A crest he didn't recognize but instinctively knew wasn't human.
The last line?
"When the fire calls, answer it in blood. Our kind were born to burn the sky."
He stared at the letter long after his hands began to shake.
His father hadn't abandoned them. He had disappeared—because of this.
Because of Riven.
[New Objective Unlocked: Seek the Forgotten Forge – Coordinates Added][System Alert: Tracking Attempt Detected – Source Obfuscated]
His fingers twitched. Someone was trying to locate him. He tore the pendant off its cord and tucked it beneath his shirt, then shoved the note into his boot.
Outside, the wind howled—and something shifted in the shadows.
Across the Academy's upper dormitory towers, in a room lined with memory-crystals and surveillance scrolls, a woman stood barefoot in front of a glowing sigil.
Hair the color of frost. Eyes sharp as moonlight.
She tapped the arcane map as Riven's location blurred.
"Again," she murmured. "He slips again."
Behind her, a servant asked hesitantly, "Do you wish us to… accelerate observation?"
She smiled. "No. Let the Chaos grow. All roots must stretch before we burn the tree."
Meanwhile, far from the Academy, a child awoke screaming.
Little Lira clutched her head, breath shallow. Her tiny body trembled beneath threadbare blankets. Their mother rushed in, her face pale. "Another dream?"
Lira nodded, barely able to speak.
"W-What did you see, sweetling?"
The girl's lips quivered. "A broken boy… A crown made of bone… and a gate of black light swallowing a world of stars…"