The Choice of Power

The ambush came without warning.

Riven barely had time to react before the darkness exploded around them, a swarm of rogue faction warriors surging from the trees like predators closing in on wounded prey. Their leader, Kieran the Red Reaper, walked at a measured pace behind them, his crimson cloak billowing in the wind, the blood-red hue a stark contrast against the night

The squad had been scouting enemy territory, picking through the aftermath of a battle, when the attack hit. They had been careful, cautious, but it hadn't been enough. The mercenaries had set a perfect trap.

"We're surrounded," muttered Gareth, the team's second-in-command, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his blade

Riven's heartbeat pounded in his ears. His squad was outmatched. He could tell just by looking at the way Kieran's men carried themselves—calm, methodical, and far too confident. These weren't ordinary warriors. They were hunters, assassins. And they had been waiting for this moment.

Kieran's gaze landed on Riven. His sharp smile sent a chill down his spine. "Well, well," Kieran mused, stepping forward. "What do we have here? A few lost soldiers sniffing around where they shouldn't be?"

"We're just passing through," Gareth said evenly, his muscles tense. "No need for unnecessary bloodshed."

Kieran chuckled. "Oh, I think there is."

In a flash, he raised his hand. The rogue warriors attacked.

Chaos erupted. Blades clashed, fire ignited, and the earth trembled beneath the force of battle. Riven moved on instinct, his blade meeting an enemy's spear in a violent clash. The impact sent shockwaves up his arms, but he gritted his teeth and pushed back.

His squad fought fiercely. Gareth moved like a whirlwind, cutting through attackers with practiced precision. Lena, their sharpshooter, loosed arrows from a distance, each shot finding its mark. Tomas, their heavy-hitter, swung his warhammer in devastating arcs, breaking enemy lines. They were skilled, experienced—but it wasn't enough.

For every enemy they struck down, another two took their place. The mercenaries moved with lethal efficiency, overwhelming them.

Then, one of Riven's teammates screamed.

He turned just in time to see Dain, the youngest in their squad, fall. A dagger lodged in his side, his face twisted in agony. Blood pooled around him.

A rogue warrior raised his blade for the finishing blow.

Riven's vision darkened. His shadow shuddered beneath him, writhing like a living thing.

No. Not yet.

He forced himself to move, to fight within his limits. He darted forward, parrying the strike aimed at Dain and driving his dagger into the enemy's throat. Blood sprayed across his hands, warm and slick, but he barely registered it. He hauled Dain onto his back, retreating toward Gareth.

"We need to get out of here!" he shouted over the clash of steel.

Gareth's eyes darted to Kieran, who still stood motionless, watching the battle unfold with eerie patience. Then he nodded sharply. "Fall back! Regroup!"

But the moment they tried to retreat, the noose tightened.

Riven had barely taken a step when Kieran moved.

He blurred forward, cutting through the battlefield like a specter of death. One by one, he felled the squad's warriors with terrifying speed, weaving through the fray effortlessly. He wasn't even trying. He was toying with them.

Then, he appeared before Riven.

Up close, Kieran's presence was suffocating. His eyes gleamed with something dark, something knowing.

"You're different."

Riven's fingers tightened around his blade. "What are you talking about?"

Kieran smirked. "Your shadow."

Riven froze. His shadow—his power—had been reacting all night, shifting against his will. He had been careful, suppressing it, but now he realized… Kieran had noticed.

Before he could deny it, Kieran lunged.

Riven barely had time to react before their blades met. The force sent him staggering back. Kieran pressed the attack, his strikes precise, each one testing, probing. Riven fought back with everything he had, but Kieran was toying with him, studying him.

And then it happened.

Riven's shadow lashed out—on its own.

A dark tendril erupted from the ground, intercepting the strike and wrapping around Kieran's wrist. The mercenary froze, his eyes widening slightly. Then he laughed.

"Well, well," Kieran murmured, amused. "What a rare gift you have."

Riven's stomach twisted.

His secret was out.

The battle around them slowed as more of the mercenaries took notice. Riven's squad, battered and bloodied, looked at him with dawning realization.

Lena's voice was barely a whisper. "What… are you?"

Riven didn't answer. He couldn't. He had spent so long keeping his power hidden, blending in, pretending to be normal. But now, in the face of death, he had lost control.

Kieran's grin widened. "You're wasted among these people. Come with me. I can teach you how to harness that power."

Riven's hands clenched. He could feel his shadow writhing, hungry, waiting. The mercenaries had already marked him. His squad had already begun to fear him. He could feel their gazes digging into him, uncertainty creeping into their eyes.

Kieran was offering him an escape. A way out. A path where he wouldn't have to hide anymore.

But then he looked at his squad. Dain, bleeding out. Gareth, panting, still trying to protect his people. Lena, confused and afraid.

These people had fought beside him. Trusted him.

Riven exhaled slowly.

No."

Kieran sighed. "Shame."

In a blink, Kieran struck.

But this time, Riven didn't hold back.

His shadow erupted from the ground, swallowing the battlefield in darkness. The tendrils lashed out, seizing Kieran's men, dragging them screaming into the abyss. The ground trembled beneath him as the raw power of his abilities surged forth, unchecked, unrestrained.

The night belonged to him.

Kieran barely managed to escape, vanishing into the shadows with a single whispered promise. "We'll meet again, Shadowborn."

When the darkness receded, silence followed.

Riven stood among the bodies, his breath ragged, his hands trembling.

He turned to his squad.

They stared at him with something new in their eyes.

Not just fear. Not just awe.

Doubt.

And for the first time, Riven realized—he wasn't one of them anymore.

He never had been.