Chapter Two: The Man in Chains
Hope was a fragile thing. Easy to crush. Easy to burn.
And yet, Riven kept offering it like it didn't cost him anything at all.
Riven counted the hours in drips—water from the stone ceiling, his own breaths, the distant clank of guards changing shifts. The cell was cold, always. The stone bit into his back no matter how he sat, and the chains around his wrists were enchanted to tighten if he so much as whispered the wrong word.
Still, he smiled when the footsteps came.
Kael.
He never said his name aloud, but Riven tasted it on the edge of every breath. A name that sounded like war and winter and something heavier than fate.
"You're late," Riven said, lounging like he hadn't been sitting in silence for the past twelve hours. "I almost thought you forgot me."
Kael stood outside the bars, expression unreadable. As always. That infuriating calm that clung to him like armor.
"You tried to escape," Kael said flatly.
Riven stretched. "No, I tried to breathe. The wards flared when I yawned."
Kael didn't smile. But his gaze flickered briefly downward—at the raw skin around Riven's wrists. He didn't ask how bad it hurt. Didn't ask if he needed anything.
Instead, he stepped forward and knelt.
Riven blinked. "You're… unlocking me?"
"You're not going back to that cell."
"What, upgrading me to a prettier prison?"
"No." Kael looked up. His golden eyes were molten in the torchlight. "You're coming with me."
They walked through the lower halls in silence. Riven still wore the chains, but they hung loosely now, the magic in them dormant. It was a trick—Kael had burned through the seal sigils without alerting the guards. The man had terrifying precision.
"Where are we going?" Riven whispered.
"Away from ears."
"Careful," Riven said, glancing at him. "You're starting to sound like a traitor."
Kael didn't respond. But his pace quickened.
They reached a chamber tucked beneath the main floor, a room lined in obsidian and lit with only a single flame suspended midair. Kael waved a hand—wards activated. No sound would leave the room.
Only then did he turn.
"You're going to tell me what you are."
Riven leaned against the wall, silver hair catching the light.
"I'm a lot of things. Pick one."
"Don't play games."
"I'm not. I'm alive, barely. I'm magic, cursed. I'm what your Emperor fears." Riven stepped closer, his eyes catching Kael's with sudden intensity. "But mostly? I'm tired."
Kael's fists clenched. "You wield Heartflame. That should be impossible."
"And yet," Riven whispered, "here I am."
Kael circled him, slow, like a predator unsure if it should strike or surrender.
"How do you control it?"
"I don't."
"You're lying."
"No," Riven said, voice turning raw. "I'm surviving. There's a difference."
He lifted his hands. The chains shimmered faintly, reacting to the low hum of power beneath his skin. Not fire, not ice—something older. Wilder.
"It reacts to feelings," Riven said. "Want to know what I felt when your guards dragged me here? Want to know what it did to them when I couldn't stop the panic?"
Kael flinched.
"Heartflame doesn't obey logic. Or fear. It obeys me. And I can't always choose what I feel."
"Then you're a threat."
"I was born a threat."
Silence.
And then Kael said something Riven didn't expect.
"I know what it's like."
Riven stared at him. "To be dangerous?"
Kael's voice dropped. "To be used."
The words settled like dust between them.
They didn't speak again until hours later, when Riven sat on the floor of the warded room, his back against the wall, legs drawn up. Kael stood near the door, arms folded, gaze distant.
"You should kill me," Riven said softly.
"I know."
"Then why haven't you?"
Kael didn't answer right away. When he did, it was barely above a whisper.
"I don't know anymore."
That night, Kael brought him to a chamber far from the cells. It wasn't lavish, but it had a bed. A basin. Warmth.
"I'll post a guard," Kael said.
"Why? Afraid I'll run?"
"I'm afraid someone else will kill you before I get answers."
Riven smirked. "Of course. That's all I am, right? A puzzle."
Kael didn't rise to the bait. He turned to leave.
But Riven's voice stopped him.
"Kael."
It was the first time he'd said it aloud.
Kael turned, barely.
Riven's voice was quiet. "You don't have to pretend around me. I see you."
Kael held his gaze a moment longer than necessary.
Then he left.
But the door didn't lock.
Chains were meant to bind. But the ones around Kael's heart had begun to loosen.
And Riven—reckless, stubborn Riven—wasn't afraid of the fire underneath.