They passed through an old watch line just before dusk began rising.
It looked like a broken trail half-buried by roots. The wind whistled through the hollow towers, blowing dust and spirals along the path.
Riven walked ahead, his eyes half-lidded with tiredness. He held the dagger, but he lowered it.
Veyla trailed behind him, her footsteps lighter than his, and she seemed to be lost in thought.
Neither of them had spoken since the fight, and he wasn't sure what bothered her more—how easy it was for him to kill the Warden or how quiet he had been after.
They stopped at the edge of a wide clearing. He noticed ruined pillars jutting from the ground, each etched with faded markings. Some of them looked like old shrines, others, graves.
A weathered sign creaked in the wind, inscribed with bold letters: THE GRAVEYARD OF CINDER KNIGHTS
Riven tilted his head slightly, noticing a shadow from where he stood. "Someone's here," he said, his hand gripping the dagger tightly.
Veyla had already drawn her blade. "I can feel it as well."
They walked closer, stepping into the open, and saw a knight.
He stood motionless in the center of a cathedral, facing away. Black trim accented the battered but proud silver plates of his armor.
A red cloak clung to his back, tattered at the bottom. The hilt of a great sword rose just above his shoulders.
The surrounding air shimmered faintly—not the wind.
"Is that not supposed to be a..." he said, pausing mid-sentence.
Veyla stared closely, nodding at his unfinished words. "Yes, he's a Cinder Knight."
From her expression, they should have meant something noble, but apparently they didn't.
The knight noticed their presence and turned slowly, revealing the faint glow of an old Grace mark burned into the steel of his chest plate. It shimmered gold, but only barely, as if it had lost its warmth.
Veyla noticed and immediately cautioned him, "Step back. If he's still bound to Grace, he'll notice the rune on your arm."
"Too late," Riven responded, his expression getting serious.
The knight locked his eyes on Riven's arm, and in a split second, he moved.
He was fast, but with purpose, like he knew how to end him. With a slow draw of his great sword, he spoke no words.
The great sword scraped the ground behind him, leaving trails of sparks as he ran forward, heading for Riven.
Riven took her advice and stepped forward. He didn't take any stances or say any speech—he just stood.
The knight's blade cut through the air in an arc wide enough to decapitate three men. Riven ducked below, rolled under the swing, and felt the shock wave shatter a pillar behind him.
"Close one," he said, rising quickly.
The knight didn't stop. He spun quickly, dragging his great sword behind him, sparks flying in the air as he carved a line through the ground.
Riven's boots skidded. He kicked off the wall behind him, flipped mid-air, and landed behind the knight in one smooth motion.
○Slash○
He struck the back of the knight's leg, found a weak joint, and his blade bit deep.
The knight grunted, but didn't say anything.
But instead of stumbling, he twisted his body around unnaturally fast and backhanded Riven across the ribs.
The impact sent him flying several feet away from where he had been.
He hit the ground hard, gasping for air as he clutched his side. The rune hadn't awakened yet, and he didn't know why—so the pain was still there.
"He's definitely not human," he muttered between breaths.
Veyla, who was watching, responded, "It doesn't look like he is anymore."
She hadn't joined the fight yet—she just stood and watched. This was his fight, not hers.
The knight didn't waste a second. He came again, slower this time, as if he were calculating something.
His next swing was a vertical strike, meant to split him in two. But Riven dove left, came up fast, and brought his blade across the knight's ribs.
Sparks flew as the dagger hit the metal.
The knight caught Riven's wrist mid-swing, his grip like iron.
Riven's eyes widened, then narrowed with unreadable emotion, and the Rune flared wildly.
Energy erupted from his arms—not in flames, but with force.
The knight reeled just enough, and Riven pivoted, twisted out of the grip, and slammed his elbow into the knight's helmet. It cracked the visor.
The knight staggered backward and took a knee.
Riven took the advantage and blurred forward, releasing combos he used in the game.
One slash, two, three... he just kept going.
He moved like smoke and struck like lightning, every step powered by the curse etched into his forearm.
The knight parried the third blow, but his defense felt slower now and seemed more desperate than before.
They clashed again—steel against steel, sparks flying in the air.
Then he saw an opening. The knight's foot slipped on a moss-covered stone, and Riven immediately went below, his blade reversed and drove it straight through the knight's side.
The knight froze. The red light in his sword flickered out.
For a breath, everything became still. Then, the knight dropped his blade and knelt down.
Not from pain, but from choice.
Riven stepped back, his chest heaving heavily.
The knight looked up slowly, his visor cracked just enough to see one eye—fading and dim.
"You fight just like him," he said, smiling softly, a small shade of hope in his eyes.
"Who?" Riven asked, confused a bit.
"My brother," the knight murmured. "He burned before I did," he answered. Then his body began fading, his armor collapsing into dust.
The memories slipped into Riven like a wave—a burning keep, a broken promise he made, shattered family bonds that should have lasted.
The rune flared, and Riven felt the knight's strength pour into him bit by bit.
It carved itself into him, and when it was over, he felt stronger, faster, sharper, but also rid of his emotions.
Veyla stepped forward slowly. "You didn't just end his life, did you?"
"No, I didn't," Riven responded, staring at his palms, and they weren't shaking like they were supposed to.
That single moment terrified him more than anything else.