Shadows Don’t Lie

The battlefield lay in eerie silence, save for the occasional crackle of dying embers and the distant groans of the wounded. The weight of what had just transpired hung heavy in the air. The blood of their enemies soaked the ground, but none of Riven's squadmates were looking at the carnage. They were looking at him.

At the darkness still writhing around him, like something alive.

Riven barely controlled his breathing, his heart still hammering from the surge of power that had overtaken him. His shadow stretched unnaturally across the ground, shifting even though there was no wind, no movement. It should have returned to normal when he willed it—but it didn't. It twitched, coiling and uncoiling like a beast unsettled.

His squad was frozen in place. He could see it in their eyes. Horror. Uncertainty. A deep, primal fear that no soldier should ever have toward one of their own. They had fought side by side for months, bled together, survived impossible odds—but now, it was as if they didn't know him at all.

No one spoke, until Liora, the team's medic, took a slow step forward. Her hands trembled as she pressed against her own wound, crimson staining her fingertips. Her voice was hoarse, laced with exhaustion and something else Riven couldn't quite place.

"Riven… what the hell did you just do?"

Riven opened his mouth, but no words came. How was he supposed to explain something he barely understood himself?

He had been holding back. Always. Keeping his power hidden, restraining it. But when he saw Kieran nearly kill Liora, something inside him snapped. The darkness had surged forward, answering his rage like an instinct buried deep in his bones. It had felt natural, even easy. Too easy.

The aftermath told the story. The battlefield had transformed into a nightmarish wasteland. The mercenaries were gone—not just dead, but gone, their bodies swallowed by his power. Shadows had torn them apart, their souls yanked into the void. And all he had to show for it was the silence of his squad and the weight of their fear.

"What are you?" The question came from Kael, the team's tracker. His hand hovered near his weapon, muscles tense. He was wary, poised to attack if Riven made one wrong move.

Riven swallowed hard. He wasn't sure how to answer that.

A sudden burst of light cut through the dark sky, streaking high above them. A signal flare—one unmistakable in color and meaning. It wasn't just a call for reinforcements. It was a summons. The Organization was watching.

A cold weight settled in Riven's stomach. He had been careful, staying beneath their radar. But now?

"Shit," muttered Edrik, one of the veteran fighters in the squad. "They know."

Riven clenched his fists. Running was an option. If he disappeared into the night, he could avoid being dragged in for questioning, avoid the scrutiny of those who understood far more about his power than he did. But running now would only confirm their worst fears.

So he made a decision.

He straightened his posture, ignoring the dark tendrils that still curled at his feet. "We need to move," he said firmly. "The longer we wait, the worse it gets."

The squad hesitated, exchanging wary glances. None of them argued. Perhaps they were too tired, too drained from the fight. Or perhaps they knew—whether they trusted him or not, they weren't leaving without him.

The journey back to base was slow and heavy with unspoken tension. No one walked too close to Riven, keeping a careful distance even as they moved through the battered terrain. He wasn't just Riven anymore. He was something else.

By the time they reached the encampment, the outer perimeter was already swarming with high-ranking officers. They weren't here for the war effort. They were here for him.

Guards flanked the entrance, their armor gleaming under the torchlight. They didn't speak, but their postures made it clear that resistance would not end well.

Liora threw him a concerned glance. Kael avoided his gaze entirely. Edrik clenched his jaw but gave him a small nod, barely perceptible. Riven appreciated it nonetheless.

A figure stepped forward from the shadows, their presence cold and suffocating. Unlike the soldiers, this one was different—someone with real authority.

"Riven of Squad 17," the man intoned, voice smooth but empty of warmth. "You are to come with us. Now."A pause. Then: "No weapons. No shadows."

Riven stiffened at the last part. The officer knew exactly what he was. That wasn't a guess.

The rest of the squad bristled, but no one dared protest.

He exhaled slowly, then stepped forward. "Fine."

The moment he moved, the guards closed in behind him. The camp blurred around him as they led him deeper inside, past the familiar barracks and command tents, toward a secluded section of the base rarely visited by regular soldiers.

They stopped in front of a metal door reinforced with sigils. Whatever lay behind it, the Organization had prepared for him.

The officer pushed it open and gestured for him to enter.

Riven hesitated for only a second before stepping inside.

The door shut behind him with a hollow clank.

A single dim light flickered overhead. The room was bare except for a chair and a darkened glass panel on the far wall. An interrogation chamber.

A presence stirred beyond the glass. Someone was watching.

Then a voice, smooth as ice, rang out from unseen speakers. "We know who you really are. The question is… what are you planning?"

Riven stood still, jaw tightening. They knew.

He had spent his life hiding. But now, it seemed, the shadows had finally caught up to him.