The mark didn't stop reacting.
Even after they left the dead grove and the whispering sapling, Riven could feel it.
The Ashen Rune. Burned into his chest like a second heartbeat. Always warm. Never hot. It pulsed when he breathed. Faintly. Just enough to remind him it was there.
He didn't know if it was feeding on him or fueling him. Maybe both.
Veyla didn't speak for a long time. Not until they reached the shattered ruins of what once looked like a bell tower, crooked and split in half by some long-forgotten battle. Ash coated the stones. Vines strangled the broken bell.
They made camp beneath it.
"You haven't been blinking much," she said quietly.
Riven blinked.
"...Exactly," she muttered.
He hadn't noticed.
His hands didn't tremble anymore. His wounds stopped aching. The soreness in his limbs from walking days without rest was gone. He hadn't even felt tired since the mark was burned into his chest.
The strength should've felt like a blessing.
It didn't. It felt like a replacement.
Like something else had slid into his skin and started holding the reins.
◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇◇
At dusk, they were woken up by the sounds of birds chirping and rodents scattering away.
They heard the footsteps of something coming before they saw the beast. Heavy. Dragging.
Then the sound of chains clinking.
A figure limped through the trees.
It wasn't human anymore.
It had once worn armor, heavy, blackened, and twisted with red-hot seams that still glowed from deep within. Its helmet was split across the front, a snout of broken metal with smoke leaking through the cracks.
Around its wrists, iron rings dragged twin chains, the links studded with shards of glass and bone. And where its eyes should've been, two faint white pinpricks blinked like dying stars.
"A Flame-bound Warden," Veyla said, standing slowly. Her voice was tight. "Those aren't supposed to exist anymore."
The Warden turned its head toward her. Then toward Riven.
And it ran. Fast.
Too fast for something that size.
Chains snapped behind it like whips. The earth cracked under its feet. Ash blasted out from the soil with every stride.
Riven didn't wait.
His body moved before his thoughts could catch up.
The mark had already pulsed once.
He stepped forward. One breath. Then vanished in a blur.
The Warden's chain lashed toward his face, Riven ducked low, sliding under it, sparks dancing as the links slammed into a boulder behind him and cracked it in two.
He twisted behind the beast, blade drawn.
One cut. Clean. Deep.
The black armor groaned. Ash burst from the wound like steam.
But the Warden didn't fall.
It spun, catching him with the back of its armored elbow. The blow hit like a landslide. Riven flew back, hit the stone wall of the ruins, and coughed as dust rained down.
The Rune pulsed again.
He stood up fast, too fast, with absolutely no pain surging through his body.
His ribs had snapped. He knew that. But now they were whole again. Or at least numb enough to ignore.
The Warden came again, both chains flying.
Riven caught one.
It should've crushed his fingers.
Instead, his grip locked it mid-swing, and with a roar, he yanked the Warden forward, dragging the massive thing off balance.
Veyla didn't miss the opening.
Her blade flashed once, an arc of silver light slicing clean across the beast's knees.
The Warden staggered. Dropped.
And Riven moved in for the kill.
The Rune pulsed a third time.
He drove his dagger into the thing's chest, not through flesh. Through the mark beneath the armor.
It didn't scream. It just froze. The chains went still.
Then remnants poured from its mouth and eyes like water from a broken jar.
Riven stepped back.
And something passed into him.
It wasn't just strength. It wasn't energy. It was… memory.
Fragments. Cracks of broken thought. A burning tower. A blade dipped in fire. Screams in the distance.
And then, nothing.
A breath later, he stood there, hands steady. Heart calm.
Too calm.
"Riven?" Veyla asked.
He looked at her.
She looked smaller somehow. Or maybe it was him. Maybe he was just colder.
He didn't feel victory. He didn't feel relief.
He didn't feel… much of anything.
"That rune..." she said, nodding to his chest.
It had changed.
The spiral had grown.
Thorns twisted tighter around the edges. Small trails of red-orange now shimmered beneath the black like cooling coals.
"You absorbed it," she said. "The Warden's power."
"And something else," he said.
She frowned. "What?"
"I don't know. I can't remember."
He tried to think.
There'd been a song in his head earlier. A memory of someone humming. A soft voice.
Now it was gone.
Like it had never existed.
He pressed a hand to his chest. The heat was steady. The hunger too.
The Rune didn't speak. It didn't demand. But it waited. It watched. It wanted.
He knew what would happen next.
Every kill would feed it, every kill would cost something.
His grip tightened on his sword.
"How much will it take?" he asked aloud.
Veyla didn't answer. Neither did the Rune.
But the silence said enough.
Too much.