The Truth Beneath the Shadows

Riven's heartbeat pounds in his ears. The true purpose of the Shadowbound?

He has spent his life believing his power was a weapon—an ancient force meant for battle, for conquest. But these figures, these impossible beings, speak as if he has barely scratched the surface.

His grip tightens. "Then tell me."

The leader steps forward, their presence warping the very air around them. "You already know the first truth: Shadows grow stronger as they fight." Their tone is measured, patient, as if speaking to a child. "But do you know why?"

Riven's jaw tightens. He had always assumed it was simple—his power devouring strength from the fallen. But now, doubt creeps in.

The rogue figure gestures, and a wisp of darkness lifts from the ground, shifting and twisting until it forms… a face.

Riven's breath catches. He knows that face.

It's one of his fallen shadows—a warrior he absorbed during his first true battle. But instead of the mindless, obedient shade he had summoned before, this one… stares at him. A flicker of something in its ghostly eyes.

Recognition.

The leader watches him. "They don't just grow stronger, Riven." Their voice is almost pitying. "They remember."

Riven's stomach tightens.

He thought the voices in his mind were just echoes, remnants of his fallen. But what if they were something more?

What if they were still alive?

His breath is shallow as the rogue figure continues. "The true purpose of the Shadowbound isn't to command the dead."

Their next words change everything.

"It's to keep them from ever escaping."

Riven's entire body tenses. He forces himself to breathe, to process what he just heard. "You're lying."

The leader of the masked figures doesn't react. They simply watch him, their head tilted slightly, as if they expected his denial. "Am I?" Their voice is devoid of malice, almost indifferent. "Then tell me, Riven—what happens when you summon a shadow, but let it linger too long? Have you ever listened to what they whisper?"

Riven's hands clench into fists. He has never let a shadow linger beyond its usefulness. The moment they weaken, he absorbs them again, feeding their strength back into himself. It's how he has always fought. How he has always survived.

But he has heard the whispers. They have been growing louder. More distinct.

They speak in tongues he cannot always understand, but at times… they sound human.

A memory surfaces unbidden.

The battle at the ruined outpost. He had been wounded, drained. His control had slipped for only a moment, and one of his oldest summoned warriors—the first enemy he had ever absorbed—had turned to look at him. Not in obedience, not awaiting command.

But with pleading in its gaze.

And then, just as quickly, he had pulled it back into himself, and it was gone.

Riven grits his teeth. "Even if that were true—why would they want to escape? I've made them stronger than they ever were in life."

The leader takes another step closer, and this time, Riven feels the weight of their presence pressing against him. Not physically—but something deeper. As if the very shadows around them bend to their will in a way his never have.

"Would you choose to live as a prisoner in another man's body? Trapped in endless servitude? Forced to fight, over and over, without will, without purpose—just a tool at someone else's command?"

Riven doesn't answer.

Because he knows the answer. He knows it intimately. He knows it in the way his enemies have begged for their lives before he cut them down. He knows it in the way he, too, would fight tooth and nail against any force that tried to claim his freedom.

The whispers in his mind grow louder.

"You have absorbed too many, too quickly," the leader continues. "You are strong, but that strength is built upon their suffering. And now, they are stirring."

Riven forces his expression to remain impassive. "Then why tell me this? If they truly want to escape, what do you gain by warning me?"

"Because you are not the first to walk this path." The leader's voice is steady, unwavering. "And if you do not learn to control what festers within you, you will not be the last."

The second figure speaks for the first time, their voice softer but no less sharp. "We were once like you, Riven. We, too, believed our power was absolute. That it was ours to wield however we wished."

A third figure steps forward. "Until the day it turned against us."

Riven scoffs, though there's no humor in it. "You expect me to believe that? That the great and powerful rogue faction were once Shadowbound warriors like me? That you failed, and now you're here to warn me?"

The leader chuckles, but it is devoid of warmth. "We are here to watch. To see if you will repeat the mistakes of those before you—or if you will be the first to break the cycle."

Riven exhales sharply, his frustration mounting. "And if I refuse to listen?"

The air around him thickens. His own shadow pulses beneath him, shifting unnaturally.

The leader's next words send a chill through his bones. "Then you will learn the truth the hard way. As we did."

For a moment, the three figures simply stand there, their presence pressing against the edges of his awareness. Then, as suddenly as they appeared, they vanish into the darkness, leaving only their final warning hanging in the air.

Riven stands alone, the silence around him deafening.

The whispers in his mind do not fade. They do not retreat.

They are waiting.

And for the first time, Riven wonders if he has been fighting the wrong battle all along.