Chapter 18: What Lies Beneath

Riven was falling.

Not in the way that gravity pulls a body down, but in a way that felt wrong. There was no wind rushing past him, no ground waiting below. He was sinking, dragged inward rather than downward, pulled into something vast and shapeless.

Darkness curled around him, thick and shifting, but he could feel something beneath it. A weight. A presence pressing against his mind, peeling him apart layer by layer.

His body wasn't his.

His thoughts weren't his.

Something else was inside him. Wearing him down.

And then—a voice.

"How long have you been here?"

It wasn't a question. It was a trap.

Riven's breath hitched. He tried to force himself to think, to remember. But the more he reached for his own memories, the more they unraveled in his hands, slipping through his fingers like sand.

Something flickered in the void. A mirror without glass. A reflection without weight.

Riven stared at it.

It stared back.

He saw his own face—or what was left of it. It wasn't solid. It wasn't stable. Parts of him were fading, missing.

His name.

His past.

His self.

"You were never whole," the voice whispered, curling around him like smoke. "You were only ever borrowed pieces."

Riven clenched his teeth. No. This wasn't real. He wasn't trapped here. He was—

He was.

Was what?

The thought twisted, turning in on itself, leaving a raw, gnawing emptiness in its place.

Riven's pulse thundered in his ears. The mirror-shape in front of him started to smile.

Not his smile. Not one he had ever worn.

"It's already begun, Riven."

Something grabbed his shoulders.

A rush of sensation slammed into him—a cold shockwave of reality snapping against his mind like shattering glass. He gasped, body wrenching forward as the darkness around him broke apart.

And then—light.

Blinding. Overwhelming.

His lungs burned as he sucked in air, chest heaving. The world was back—sharp, too real. The dim glow of a safehouse, the hum of machinery, the biting scent of old metal and dust.

Hands gripped his shoulders—Vera.

Her face was inches from his, sharp with barely restrained panic. "You back?" she demanded.

Riven tried to speak, but his throat was raw. His mouth tasted wrong. Like something had been there. Something had been inside him.

Vex was on his feet, face paler than usual, his fingers twitching as they hovered over his console. "You flatlined," he said, voice tight. "For eight minutes."

Riven barely heard him. His body still wasn't fully his. There was something under his skin. A pulse that wasn't his own. A whisper curling at the edges of his thoughts, too faint to hear—but there.

Watching.

Waiting.

He swallowed hard. "I saw something," he rasped.

Vera's grip on his shoulders tightened. "What?"

Riven hesitated. He knew what he had seen.

But the words wouldn't come.

Because some part of him was afraid to say it aloud.

---

The room felt too small.

Vex's equipment hummed softly in the background, the screens still flickering with data from whatever had happened to Riven. Vera hadn't moved from his side. She was watching him, searching his face for something he wasn't sure he could give.

Riven pressed a hand to his forehead. He could still feel the lingering echo of whatever had dragged him under. The presence. The voice.

The mirror.

His skin crawled.

Vex cleared his throat. "We need to talk about what just happened."

Riven forced his gaze up, locking onto him. "What did you see?"

Vex's lips pressed into a thin line. "You just… stopped. Your vitals flatlined, but your body didn't fall. You were standing. Eyes open. Not moving."

Vera exhaled sharply. "Like a puppet with the strings cut."

Riven's stomach twisted.

Vex rubbed a hand over his face, glancing at his monitors. "I ran a scan while it was happening. The results don't make sense."

Vera's eyes narrowed. "Define 'don't make sense.'"

Vex hesitated.

Then, he turned the screen toward them. A cold weight settled in Riven's chest as he saw the data flashing across it.

Two sets of vitals.

Both identical.

Both his.

One active. One lagging behind.

Like a delayed reflection.

Like an echo.

Vex's voice was quiet. "For eight minutes, there were two of you."

The room went silent.

Riven's mouth felt dry. His pulse hammered against his ribs.

Two.

For eight minutes, there had been two of him.

Vera took a slow step back. "So which one are you?"

The question hit him like a bullet.

He opened his mouth—but for the first time in his life, he had no answer.

Because he wasn't sure.