FIRST STRIKE

The academy's halls were a maze of stone and ambition. Riven walked through them with the poise of someone who had already mastered their game, his every step deliberate, his mind razor-sharp. The sword at his side was a constant reminder of his purpose: strength, power, vengeance.

His days at the academy had become a careful balance of appearances and meticulous preparation. While other noble sons showed off their skills, sparred for the amusement of their peers, Riven had taken a different approach. He was a shadow in their midst, never too eager to stand out, yet always just enough to be noticed. He didn't need to prove anything—he was playing the long game.

Aria, however, had been a more difficult variable. Despite her outward support, she was cunning, and her loyalty was never fully guaranteed. She watched him with the keen eyes of a predator, trying to gauge just how much he had changed. But Riven wasn't blind. He knew she was already planning her own rise to power. What she didn't realize was that she would be a part of his empire, or crushed beneath it. It was only a matter of time.

His lessons in combat were brutal, but necessary. Riven had long since abandoned the idea of honor, embracing the cold efficiency of the shadows. His swordsmanship was precise, deadly—each strike like a silent promise of things to come. It wasn't the flashy technique of a noble knight but the deadly art of someone who had nothing left to lose.

One afternoon, as Riven practiced in the courtyard, a familiar figure approached: Kael. The leader of the Veil Syndicate. The two men exchanged a long, knowing look before Kael spoke, his voice low, almost a whisper.

"It won't be long now," Kael said, his eyes glinting with dark amusement. "The academy will be nothing more than a stepping stone. You'll have your power soon enough."

Riven nodded, his expression unreadable. "I know. But not yet. We need to wait for the right moment. One misstep, and the entire kingdom will turn against us."

Kael's smirk deepened, but his gaze never wavered. "Then we wait. And we strike when the time is ripe."

As Kael left, Riven's thoughts turned inward. His time at the academy had only just begun, but every lesson, every spar, every quiet conversation was part of a larger plan. He was playing the game—waiting for his moment to ignite the fire that would burn Valcrest to the ground. And when that moment came, he would not be a victim of fate. He would be its master.

Riven's hand tightened around the sword hilt once more. The academy was his crucible, and soon, it would forge him into something unstoppable. The road to vengeance had begun, and there was no turning back.