The void breach pulsed around Riven like a festering wound carved into the shadowed realm’s rotting core, a cavern of shadow and violet chaos throbbing with a sick, erratic heartbeat, its walls slick with oozing tar and despair, a living hell that crushed his soul with every snarling, desperate breath he tore from its rancid maw. Black sand churned beneath his boots, a jagged tempest of glass and ash slashing his legs to ribbons, a ground that writhed and snapped like a beast in its death throes, a feral trap clawing at his flesh, ravenous to drag him into its festering guts and bury him alive. The air was a thick, toxic shroud—rot, blood, and a sour, metallic sting that burned his throat raw, a choking sludge that coated his lungs with every guttural roar, a stench that screamed of voidspawn gore and the abyss’s endless hunger, a testament to the slaughter he’d carved, the mirror he’d shattered, and the price he’d paid in blood and soul to reach this moment.
Riven staggered forward, a broken man fueled by a feral will, the Archive Shard gripped in his left fist like a goddamn lifeline, its golden runes blazing with a wild, unhinged light, a wildfire scorching the dark, a searing heat that blistered his palm bloody, a beacon trembling with Lyra’s voice—“Riven… help…”—a faint, pleading cry that pierced the silence, a spark that dragged his shattered soul through the chaos, a vow etched into his breaking bones. His sword hung heavy in his right, its edge notched and slick with black ichor, Shadow Strike smoldering along its length like a dying ember reignited, a crescent of void energy pulsing with his rage, a blade forged in the furnace of his heart and baptized in the blood of this shithole, a weapon that roared her name with every savage swing, a promise to rip her from this hell now trembling in his grip. His cloak streamed behind him, a shredded rag soaked in sweat and gore, clinging to his back like flayed flesh, stained with the filth of every fight, every loss, every goddamn tear he’d bled for her, a weight he’d haul through this abyss to feel her light again.
His life force flickered inside him, a feral ember clawing against the void’s suffocating grip, a flame dimmed by grief and shattered by exhaustion, a wild spark drowning in the Void’s cold, creeping threads stitching his torn back, a dark pulse pounding through his veins like a war drum gone berserk, barely keeping him alive as his body begged to collapse into the dust. His stamina was ash, a ghost crushed to nothing, every step a snarl, his lungs a furnace of fire and blood, his chest heaving with raw, jagged will, a man broken on the last scraps of his soul, fueled by her voice—real, fragile, alive—a thread pulling him deeper. Black veins throbbed beneath his skin like a living storm unleashed, pulsing wild and untamed, shadow surging through him in violent, unrelenting waves, a power that had steadied his hands now choking his heart, a tide of wrath that drowned him in the dark, a beast he’d fed until it consumed him, a price he’d pay to reach her.
The Veilborn Interface burned at the edge of his vision, its obsidian frame shuddering like a predator clawing free, crimson tendrils snaking thick and fast, a mirror to the corruption shredding his soul, a warning screaming through his skull—Corruption Overload: Stability Critical—a feral roar in his mind, a toll he’d paid in blood, bone, and fucking sanity to shatter the voidborn mirror, a price he’d ram down the void’s throat, a man too shattered to care as long as her light still flickered in this chaos. Corruption flooded him, black veins pulsing thicker, a dark tide whispering—Take it, take it—a promise of power, a seduction he couldn’t fight, a beast clawing his mind, his body, his soul, a man teetering on the edge of oblivion, driven by her voice alone.
The breach warped around him, walls pulsing like a dying organ, a tunnel narrowing into a suffocating chokehold, the hum faltering, a haze of violet and black twisting the air, a silence swallowing the chaos, a stillness that gnawed at his senses, a trap tightening in the dark. His team was gone—lost to the void’s depths, their cries swallowed by the abyss, leaving him alone, a broken man clawing through hell, Lyra’s voice the only thread holding him together. His crimson eyes blazed through tears, a snarl ripping free—“Lyra—where are you?”—a plea that echoed unanswered, a warrior lost in the dark, a man bleeding for her light.
A shimmer flickered ahead, a faint glow piercing the haze, a golden thread cutting through the shadow, a pulse that matched the shard’s light, a beacon drawing him forward. His heart slammed against his ribs, Lyra’s voice—“Riven… here…”—closer now, a desperate cry that tore his chest open, a call he’d kill for, a vow etched into his soul. He staggered on, sand slashing his legs, blood trickling warm and coppery, a sting he spat at, his sword dragging, his body breaking, corruption surging wild, black veins throbbing like a heartbeat gone berserk, a man clawing through the abyss for her.
The tunnel opened, a cavernous chamber stretching wide, its walls pulsing with violet veins, a heart of the breach beating with malice, a prison forged in shadow. And there—there she was. Lyra hung in the center, her body suspended by void tendrils, black and writhing, coiling around her arms, her legs, her chest, a cage of shadow choking her light. Her glow—once radiant, blinding—was dim, a frail ember flickering in the dark, her skin pale and streaked with black veins, her eyes half-open, golden irises dulled by pain, her lips trembling with faint breaths, a ghost of the woman he’d lost, a spark he’d fought to reclaim.
Riven’s chest caved, a sob ripping free—“Lyra!”—a roar of love and heartbreak, his sword dropping, his knees buckling, tears streaking his blood-soaked face, a man shattered by the sight, a warrior lost in her light. He stumbled forward, the shard’s light flaring in his grip, Lyra’s voice—“Riven…”—a weak, broken whisper that stabbed his heart, a call that dragged him to her, his hands reaching, trembling, a man breaking to hold her again. The tendrils tightened, shadow pulsing through them, her body jerking, a faint cry escaping her lips—“Help…”—a plea that ignited his rage, a fire roaring through his veins, a vow to rip her free or die trying.
His snarl roared back—“I’m here, you fuckers!”—a man possessed, his hands clawing at the tendrils, shadow tearing at his flesh, a searing pain exploding through him, blood dripping warm and red, a sting he ignored as he yanked, his strength faltering, corruption surging thicker, black veins pulsing wild, a warrior breaking to save her. The tendrils lashed, whipping through the air, a strike slashing his arm, a gash blooming red, a snarl ripping free—“Let her go!”—a man clawing through the pain, his sword slashing Shadow Strike, a crescent of void tearing through one, ichor spraying, a rush of experience fueling his breaking body, a spark of defiance in the chaos.
Lyra’s eyes flickered, meeting his, a faint glow sparking in her gaze, her voice a cracked whisper—“Riven… you came…”—a sound that broke him wide open, tears streaming, his snarl feral—“Always—I’ll get you out!”—a man clawing through despair, his hands tearing at the tendrils, shadow burning his flesh, a warrior fighting for her light, a love that roared through the abyss. The tendrils pulsed, tightening, her body trembling, black veins creeping up her neck, a sign of her essence fraying, a truth that iced his veins, a fight he couldn’t lose.
The breach pulsed, walls shuddering, a wave of void energy slamming him, a force that staggered his footing, Lyra’s voice—“Hurry…”—a desperate thread, a trap tightening, a hell he’d conquer or die in. Riven’s crimson eyes blazed through tears, the shard’s light a spear in the dark, corruption surging, a warrior breaking to reach her, a vow to free her burning in his chest, a man bleeding for her, a love that defied the abyss.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
The void breach roared around Riven like a festering wound torn into the shadowed realm’s rotting heart, a cavern of shadow and violet chaos pulsing with a sick, frantic heartbeat, its walls slick with oozing tar and despair, a living hell that crushed his soul with every snarling, desperate breath he clawed from its rancid jaws. Black sand churned beneath his boots, a jagged tempest of glass and ash slashing his legs to bloody ribbons, a ground that writhed and snapped like a beast in its death throes, a feral trap clawing at his flesh, ravenous to drag him into its festering guts and bury him alive. The air was a thick, toxic shroud—rot, blood, and a sour, metallic sting that seared his throat raw, a choking sludge that coated his lungs with every guttural roar, a stench that screamed of voidspawn gore and the abyss’s endless hunger, a testament to the slaughter he’d carved, the mirror he’d shattered, and the price he’d paid in blood and soul to reach her.
Riven knelt before Lyra, a broken man fueled by a feral will, the Archive Shard gripped in his left fist like a goddamn lifeline, its golden runes blazing with a wild, unhinged light, a wildfire scorching the dark, a searing heat that blistered his palm bloody, a beacon trembling with her voice—“Riven… hurry…”—a desperate, fading cry that tore his chest open, a spark that dragged his shattered soul through the chaos, a vow etched into his breaking bones. His sword lay beside him, its edge notched and slick with black ichor, Shadow Strike smoldering along its length like a dying ember reignited, a crescent of void energy pulsing with his rage, a blade forged in the furnace of his heart and baptized in the blood of this shithole, a weapon that roared her name with every savage swing, a promise to rip her from this hell now trembling in the sand. His cloak pooled around him, a shredded rag soaked in sweat and gore, clinging to his back like flayed flesh, stained with the filth of every fight, every loss, every goddamn tear he’d bled for her, a weight he’d haul through this abyss to hold her again.
His life force flickered inside him, a feral ember clawing against the void’s suffocating grip, a flame dimmed by grief and shattered by exhaustion, a wild spark drowning in the Void’s cold, creeping threads stitching his torn arm, a dark pulse pounding through his veins like a war drum gone berserk, barely keeping him alive as his body screamed to collapse. His stamina was ash, a ghost crushed to nothing, every move a snarl, his lungs a furnace of fire and blood, his chest heaving with raw, jagged will, a man broken on the last scraps of his soul, fueled by her voice—real, fragile, alive—a thread pulling him through the dark. Black veins throbbed beneath his skin like a living storm unleashed, pulsing wild and untamed, shadow surging through him in violent, unrelenting waves, a power that had steadied his hands now choking his heart, a tide of wrath that drowned him in the dark, a beast he’d fed until it consumed him, a price he’d pay to free her.
The Veilborn Interface burned at the edge of his vision, its obsidian frame shuddering like a predator clawing free, crimson tendrils snaking thick and fast, a mirror to the corruption shredding his soul, a warning screaming through his skull—Corruption Overload: Collapse Imminent—a feral roar in his mind, a toll he’d paid in blood, bone, and fucking sanity to reach her, a price he’d ram down the void’s throat, a man too shattered to care as long as her light still flickered in this chaos. Corruption flooded him, black veins pulsing thicker, a dark tide whispering—Take it, take it—a promise of power, a seduction he couldn’t fight, a beast clawing his mind, his body, his soul, a man teetering on the edge of oblivion, driven by her alone.
Lyra hung before him, her body a frail prisoner of the void tendrils, black and writhing, coiling around her arms, her legs, her chest, a cage of shadow choking her light, her glow—once radiant, blinding—dimmed to a frail ember, her skin pale and streaked with black veins, her golden eyes dulled by pain, her lips trembling with faint breaths, a ghost of the woman he’d lost, a spark he’d kill to reclaim. Her voice cracked—“Riven… it hurts…”—a weak, broken whisper that stabbed his heart, a plea that ignited his rage, a fire roaring through his veins, a vow to rip her free or die trying. Riven’s chest caved, a sob ripping free—“Lyra—I’ve got you!”—a roar of love and heartbreak, his hands clawing at the tendrils, shadow searing his flesh, a searing pain exploding through him, blood dripping warm and red, a sting he spat at as he yanked, his strength faltering, corruption surging wild, black veins throbbing like a heartbeat gone feral.
The tendrils lashed back, whipping through the air like black razors, a strike slashing his chest, a gash blooming red, a snarl ripping free—“Fuck you—let her go!”—a man clawing through the pain, his sword slashing Shadow Strike, a crescent of void tearing through one, ichor spraying hot and black, a rush of experience fueling his breaking body, a spark of defiance in the chaos. Another tendril whipped, coiling around his arm, shadow burning his skin, a searing agony that buckled his knees, his snarl feral—“I won’t stop!”—a man breaking to save her, his hands tearing at the tendrils, shadow scorching his flesh, a warrior fighting for her light, a love that roared through the abyss.
Lyra’s eyes flickered, meeting his, a faint glow sparking in her gaze, her voice a cracked plea—“Riven… the Ascendant—it’s coming…”—a warning that iced his veins, a truth that sank claws into his soul, a name that promised a greater hell, a fight he couldn’t fathom. His heart slammed against his ribs, tears streaming, his snarl fierce—“I don’t care—I’m getting you out!”—a man clawing through despair, his hands ripping at the tendrils, shadow burning deeper, a warrior breaking for her, a vow to defy the void’s wrath. The tendrils pulsed, tightening, her body jerking, black veins creeping up her throat, a faint cry escaping her lips—“Riven…”—a sound that shattered him, a spark fraying in the dark.
The breach shuddered, walls cracking, a wave of void energy slamming them, a force that threw Riven back, sand and shadow blurring, his chest screaming, corruption surging wild, black veins throbbing, a roar of agony and fury shaking his frame—“No—you won’t take her!”—a man clawing back, his sword slashing Shadow Strike, a crescent of void tearing through another tendril, ichor raining, a rush of defiance fueling his breaking soul. The cavern trembled, rocks crumbling from the ceiling, a low rumble swelling, a sign of the breach collapsing, a trap snapping shut, a hell unraveling around them.
He lunged forward, his hands tearing at the last tendrils, shadow searing his flesh to the bone, blood pouring warm and red, his snarl feral—“Hold on, Lyra!”—a man breaking apart, his strength fading, corruption surging thicker, a dark tide flooding his veins, a warrior fighting through the chaos. The tendrils snapped, one by one, ichor spraying, her body slumping, and he caught her, pulling her frail form against his chest, her glow dim but alive, her breath faint against his neck, a sob ripping free—“I’ve got you—fuck, I’ve got you!”—a roar of love and relief, tears streaming, his arms trembling, a man holding her light, a love that defied the abyss.
The breach roared, walls buckling, a surge of shadow erupting from the depths, a force that yanked them apart, tendrils lashing from the dark, coiling around Lyra, dragging her back, her cry piercing the chaos—“Riven!”—a desperate scream that stabbed his heart, a spark torn from his grasp. His snarl roared—“No—fuck no!”—a man lunging, his sword slashing Shadow Strike, ichor spraying, corruption surging wild, black veins pulsing, a warrior clawing to reclaim her, a fight against the void’s wrath, a love breaking in the dark.
The cavern collapsed, rocks crashing, sand swirling, a wave of void energy slamming them, a trap tightening, a hell they’d escape or die in. Riven’s crimson eyes blazed through tears, the shard’s light a spear in the dark, corruption surging, a warrior breaking to reach her, a vow to free her burning in his chest, a man bleeding for her, a love that roared through the chaos, a fight against the Ascendant’s shadow looming on the horizon.
