The sky was too clear.
It bothered Riven.
After everything—the Sleepless, the Council's judgments, the visions in the undercroft—he had expected clouds. Storms. Maybe even a sign that the world had blinked. But all he got was blue.
Endless, boring blue.
He sat alone on a broken balcony in one of the ruined towers. The sword lay across his knees, humming with quiet energy.
Still nameless.
Still his.
Riven didn't know how to feel about that.
He touched the blade lightly. Half of it shimmered like sunlight on a pond. The other half seemed to devour the light entirely, like a hungry void waiting to be fed.
"You're not what I asked for," he muttered.
The sword pulsed once in response, neither approving nor denying.
"But I think I need you anyway."
[System Syncing: Dual-Origin Bond Detected][Soul-Link Status: Stabilizing][Trait Modifier Suggestion: "Fate-Split Warden" Available – Confirm to Apply?]
He hesitated.
Then he confirmed.
[Trait Modifier Applied – Fate-Split Warden: You now draw passive strength from both Holy and Abyssal threads. Your decisions may influence and rewrite localized destinies.]
Localized destinies. The words stuck with him. Not global. Not grand.
Just… nearby fates. People close. Moments dear.
Like Lira.
Somewhere beneath the Academy – Room of Threads
Lira was awake again.
She wasn't sure if she'd slept. The mind-linking with the system's root thread had been so overwhelming that it left her breathless even now. The language—raw, emotional, more feeling than words—still echoed in her mind.
She stood barefoot on glass-like tiles that shimmered with coded lines. Ancient tech merged with magic here. Soft lights ran beneath the floor like veins under skin.
And in the center of the room, suspended in air, hovered a braid of silken threads—gold, black, and silver.
"The Threads of Origin," the Librarian said softly beside her. "Once, these spun the Laws of Becoming."
Lira didn't ask how they'd been recovered. She didn't care. Her eyes were locked on the black thread.
It pulsed when she looked at it.
Not in warning.
In welcome.
"What happens if I touch it?" she asked.
"You'll be seen."
"By who?"
"The ones who are watching."
Lira stepped forward.
And touched it.
Elsewhere – Void Plane: Obsidian Tribunal
The stars here did not twinkle. They bled.
A thousand seats formed a silent coliseum, and upon them sat beings whose names were long forgotten—watchers, judges, memory-keepers, and system architects.
They turned as one.
"She stirs the Black Thread."
"The Child of the Forgotten Lineage."
"The Error That Survived."
"Shall we erase her?"
A pause.
"No. Let her walk the line. Let her burn or ascend. The world needs a storm."
And one by one, they leaned forward to watch.
Academy – Upper Balcony, Just After Dusk
Kael found Riven again.
He was getting used to the boy's silent brooding. It had become part of the atmosphere, like ash or tension.
"You know," Kael said, tossing him a wrapped biscuit, "some people nap after unlocking illegal power and challenging fate."
"I'm not like some people."
"No kidding. You're worse."
Riven cracked a rare grin. It faded too quickly.
"She touched something," he said.
"Lira?"
"She touched the Black Thread."
Kael's breath caught. "Then... she's already been seen."
"They're watching both of us now."
"Do you think we'll survive it?"
Riven didn't answer immediately. His fingers flexed against the hilt of his sword.
"If she remembers what the world forgot… and I remember her…"
He looked up.
"Then we don't just survive. We change everything."
System Alert – Unknown Domain Accessed[Fragmented Timeline Detected – Quantum Link Between Users "Riven Arkwell" and "Lira Arkwell" Achieved][Side Effect Triggered: Future-Self Bleedthrough – Events May Unfold Differently]
Riven blinked.
Visions flickered behind his eyes.
He saw Lira standing atop a tower of corpses, her hair white, her eyes hollow. He saw himself bleeding on a battlefield of glass, laughter echoing from a figure cloaked in shifting time.
Then it was gone.
Kael looked over.
"You alright?"
"Yeah."
Lie.
Hall of Heroes – The Academy's Silent Gallery
The council moved through the halls like ghosts.
The Librarian stayed behind. She stood before a mural that had just begun repainting itself—spontaneous, guided by magic.
The image was of two siblings.
A girl with no shadow.
A boy with no name.
"They're rewriting us already," she whispered. "The Codex is folding them into prophecy."
Behind her, a figure stepped from the shadows.
He wore no cloak. His body shimmered between states—sometimes human, sometimes not.
"The Codex fears them," the being said.
"It should."
"Will you protect them?"
"No. I'll prepare them."
Riven's Dormitory – Midnight
He slept for once.
And dreamed not of chaos or monsters.
He dreamed of a place.
A distant garden. A tower untouched by time. A sword in a tree. A woman waiting, her face familiar and kind.
[System Whisper – Future Memory Registered: Event Unlocked – "Sanctuary of the End"]
He awoke with a start.
Footsteps echoed outside his door.
He opened it, sword already in hand.
Lira stood there.
No guards.
No council.
Just her. Her hair tangled. Her eyes tired.
But her presence—impossibly calm.
"I remember more," she said.
Riven stepped aside.
"Come in."
The next storm had not yet begun. But the wind was shifting.
In demon towers and ancient crypts…In elven archives and rogue guild halls…In the heart of the Abyss itself…
Names were whispered.
Lira Arkwell.Riven of the Dual Flow.The Ones Who Shouldn't Exist.
And the Codex turned its many eyes toward the Academy.
Because what is written may be forgotten.But what is remembered… cannot be unwritten.