---
My sleep that night was plagued with fragments of words I couldn't unhear.
"You don't have a choice."
"To rule, I must sacrifice the one I love."
And his eyes—cold, yet trembling with something he refused to admit—haunted me.
I woke up breathless, a sheen of sweat covering my skin. The moonlight bled through the curtains, and I knew, without even checking the time, it was still hours before dawn.
I didn't want to believe it.
Did Riven really mean it? Would he really let a curse dictate who dies?
---
I tiptoed down the hallway. I had to find that book again—the one he took from me. He had hidden it somewhere, but I knew his study better than he thought.
I reached the thick mahogany door. Locked.
But Riven hadn't changed the code. Not yet.
"2311."
His mother's death anniversary.
The lock clicked.
I slipped in.
---
Riven's study always smelled faintly of old parchment, leather, and cedarwood. My fingers grazed the bookshelves, desperate for that cursed book. When I found it—wedged behind volumes of war history and demonology—my chest tightened.
I opened it again, scanning page after page until something caught my eye. A crimson sigil etched into the spine. I hadn't noticed it before.
The page beside it read:
"The Pact cannot be broken, unless the heir chooses love over lineage."
My heart skipped. There's a way out?
But then I read the fine print beneath:
"To choose love is to invite destruction. The heir's power will be stripped, and the Crimson Order will rise against him."
So that's what he was afraid of. Not just death. Rebellion. Losing everything.
---
Suddenly, I heard footsteps.
I turned to close the book, but a hand was already on mine.
Riven:
"You never listen, do you?"
His voice was low, but I could tell—he wasn't angry. He was tired. Worn.
---
Me (looking up):
"You lied to me. There is a choice."
Riven:
"A choice that comes with a price I can't afford."
Me:
"You mean power. That's what you're afraid to lose."
He looked at me, wounded. "No. I'm afraid of losing you either way."
---
The honesty in his voice broke something in me.
Me (softly):
"Then don't let the curse win."
---
He laughed bitterly. "You think it's that easy? I choose you, and they come for my blood. I choose power, and I lose the only person who's ever made me feel like I wasn't just a monster. Tell me what I'm supposed to do."
His hands trembled. This wasn't the cold, confident Riven everyone feared.
This was the boy inside—the one bound in chains of legacy and fear.
---
Without thinking, I reached out, placing my hand over his heart. "Fight for me. Even if it breaks the world. Just... fight."
For a moment, he didn't speak. Then, slowly, he nodded.
But then—something changed.
He flinched violently, as if something struck him from the inside. A scream tore from his throat.
"Riven!" I shouted, holding him as his body shook.
A crimson glow spread across his chest, beneath his shirt. I yanked the fabric open and saw it:
The Mark.
An ancient sigil glowing from his skin. The Crimson Pact was alive, reacting to his resistance.
---
Riven (barely coherent):
"They know... they know I'm choosing you…"
His voice cracked, and then he collapsed in my arms.
---
I didn't know who "they" were. I didn't know how deep this legacy ran.
But I knew one thing:
If loving me meant war, then war it would be.
---
[End of Chapter 25]
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