Chapter Three: A Spark in the Dark
Fire never forgets its source. It lingers, it burns—until nothing is left but ash.
Kael couldn't sleep that night.
He lay on his back, staring at the dark ceiling of his quarters, the weight of his armor still pressing against him even after he'd shed it. His body ached from the long day—moving through the wreckage of villages, hunting down rebels—but it wasn't the physical exhaustion that kept him awake.
It was Riven.
The rebel, the magic, the undeniable pull that seemed to bind them. It was more than the power he wielded. It was the way Riven looked at him—like he saw him, really saw him, in a way no one ever had.
But that thought made his chest tighten.
Kael rolled over, his bare feet hitting the cold stone floor. The silence of the Citadel pressed in on him, thick and heavy. He couldn't get Riven's face out of his mind—his eyes, that damn smile, the way his voice softened when he said Kael's name.
You don't have to pretend around me. I see you.
That was dangerous. If Riven understood him—if anyone understood him—then Kael might have to face the parts of himself he'd buried for years. His duty. His rage. His weakness.
He couldn't afford weakness.
The next morning, he found himself outside Riven's chambers, his hand hovering over the door. It felt like he was standing at the edge of a precipice. One wrong move, and everything would come crashing down.
The door opened without him knocking.
Riven stood there, eyes sharp but unreadable, his silver hair falling in messy waves around his face. He didn't look surprised to see Kael standing there—he never did. That unnerved him more than anything else.
"You've come to finish it, haven't you?" Riven said, his voice low.
Kael stared at him for a long moment, then shook his head. "No. I came to talk."
"Talk?" Riven raised an eyebrow. "About what? The rebellion? The Empire? Or are we talking about... us?"
Kael's stomach twisted. "You think this is a game?"
Riven stepped aside, allowing him entry. "No. I think you're trying to understand me. And I think I'm trying to understand you."
Kael entered the room, his gaze scanning the sparsely furnished space. It was nothing like the lavish chambers he was accustomed to—bare stone walls, a thin mattress on the floor, a single lantern casting flickering shadows. It felt… different. Untamed. Like Riven himself.
"You're dangerous," Kael said, his voice dark. "I don't think you understand how dangerous you are."
Riven smiled, but it wasn't the smirk Kael was used to. It was something softer, almost sad. "I don't need you to tell me that. I've lived with it my whole life."
Kael's fists clenched. "Then why not leave? Why stay and fight for a cause that will get you killed?"
"I'm not fighting for the cause, Kael," Riven said quietly. "I'm fighting for something I've lost." He paused, his eyes meeting Kael's. "Something I thought I lost."
Kael's heart thudded in his chest. He took a step closer, unable to help himself. "What are you talking about?"
Riven hesitated, then spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm talking about the fire. The Heartflame. It's not just power, Kael. It's a piece of my soul. And I—"
He stopped himself, eyes darting away.
Kael felt the sting of that silence. "And what? You think you can control it?"
"I don't think. I know. But that doesn't mean I can tame it. Not without help."
The words hung between them, a question neither of them wanted to ask aloud. Help. Kael's mind reeled.
"You want me to help you," Kael said slowly.
Riven nodded, his expression unreadable. "I don't want to be a weapon, Kael. I don't want to burn everything in my path."
Kael stepped back, his breath catching. The weight of the words landed on him like a boulder.
"You think I don't know what it's like to be a weapon?" Kael's voice cracked, though he didn't want it to. "You think I don't know what it's like to have something inside you that destroys everything it touches?"
Riven's eyes softened. "I didn't mean it like that."
"No," Kael snapped. "You don't understand. You can't understand."
Riven reached out, grabbing Kael's arm, his grip surprisingly strong. "Then make me understand. Don't just push me away. Don't just bury everything inside like it doesn't matter. It's killing you."
Kael jerked his arm away, the anger rising like a firestorm inside him. "You don't know me. You don't know what it's like to serve a king who doesn't care if you live or die. You don't know what it's like to sacrifice everything you've ever believed in."
Riven's voice was steady, calm, cutting through the storm in Kael's mind. "I know what it's like to lose everything."
The words hit harder than any blow Kael had ever received. The rage drained from him, leaving only an emptiness he didn't know how to fill.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air was thick, the silence louder than anything they could say. And yet, something shifted—something Kael couldn't name, but couldn't deny.
Riven's gaze never wavered, his hand still hovering near Kael's arm.
"I'm not asking you to fix me, Kael," Riven said softly. "I'm asking you not to break me."
Kael swallowed, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn't know what the answer was. He didn't know if there even was an answer. But when he looked at Riven, something inside him shifted—something that felt dangerously like hope.
And that was a fire neither of them could control.
Hope was a fragile thing, a spark in the dark. But sometimes, the smallest spark was all it took to set a heart on fire.