The Veil That Hungers

The wind was too still.

Riven stood at the Academy's southern gate, his cloak rustling only because he moved. The skies above were a cold grey wash—no birds, no clouds, only the eerie static that came when something wrong approached.

He didn't know what he was waiting for.

Only that the system had warned him at dawn.

[Alert: Codex Anomaly Approaching – Class: Undefined]

[Caution: Perception filters detected. Normal senses may not reveal threat.]

He should've reported it. Run to the Headmaster or the Librarian. But something told him that wouldn't work this time. Some threats weren't meant to be stopped with politics.

They had to be survived.

Footsteps echoed softly behind him.

Lira arrived, hands tucked in the sleeves of her over-robe. Her eyes still glowed faintly in dim light—no longer the innocent child's sparkle but something deeper. A well of memory beneath skin.

"You feel it too?" she asked.

Riven nodded. "Like the world's holding its breath."

"Something hungry," she said. "It's wearing skin."

They didn't wait long.

A figure walked toward the gate moments later.

At first glance, he looked like a traveling scholar—tall, slender, wrapped in midnight blue robes. His face was calm, kind even. Pale hair pulled back in a neat tail. He held a lantern that didn't glow.

But the moment Riven blinked, the man had moved ten steps forward.

Then again.

And again.

Each blink brought him closer—like time didn't apply to him properly.

Riven's hand gripped his blade.

Lira stood still, watching.

The man finally stopped within speaking range.

"I am Arrel," he said, voice smooth as melted glass. "I bring news from the Codex Council. A test is required for those who've disrupted Order. One involving memory. And forgetting."

"Why her?" Riven asked, stepping between the man and Lira.

Arrel smiled. "Because she has what others were forced to surrender."

He raised his lantern.

The world shattered.

No wind. No light. No pain. Just… absence.

Riven woke up alone in a field of ink.

No sky. No sun. Only endless black grass beneath his feet, and a crescent moon hanging wrong in the heavens—too wide, too flat.

His sword was gone.

So was the system interface.

He turned slowly, unsure of what was real.

The ground squelched underfoot, not wet, but soft like pages soaked in oil.

Then the whispers started.

They slithered along his spine, dripping into his ears. Not words. Not quite.

Feelings. Regret. Guilt. A memory of failing someone he hadn't yet met.

And then—

His sister's laugh.

He spun.

She was standing there—Lira—but too small. Much younger than she was now, holding a cracked doll in her arms. Her dress was burnt at the edges. Her cheeks were streaked with ash.

"Why didn't you come?" she asked.

"I… I was there—"

"No," she said, eyes going hollow. "You weren't. You never are."

The sky split.

A mouth opened across the heavens.

And Arrel stepped from it, now not smiling.

His form flickered.

Gone was the neat robe. Gone was the human skin.

Now he wore dozens of faces.

Layered. Fragmented.

A collage of stolen memories sewed together by threads of hunger. His arms were too long. His hands ended in quills instead of fingers. His eyes were empty scrolls that rewrote themselves every time Riven tried to look directly.

"This is the trial," he said. "Can you survive a world without the things you love?"

He raised his hand—

And the field inverted.

Now Riven stood in the ruined city of Calthrin.

Flames consumed the academy. Bodies littered the streets. Children screamed from the rooftops while demons laughed beneath blood-dripping banners. Overhead, the moon shattered.

And standing in the middle of the chaos—

Was Riven.

An older version.

One with blackened wings.

And red eyes.

He turned and looked at the real Riven with a tired smile.

"You think she's hope," he said. "But she's a fuse. And you're the match."

"No," Riven whispered. "I'd never—"

"You already did."

The older Riven raised a blade made of voidlight, and the corpses rose behind him like puppets.

Lira's body was among them.

He charged.

The real Riven screamed as everything collapsed—

And he woke again.

In a classroom this time.

A clean desk. A blackboard. A ticking clock.

His sister sat next to him, humming quietly.

No pain. No death. Just… peace.

The kind that felt fake.

Because it was.

He looked at her. "This isn't real."

She paused. Her head tilted.

Then she nodded once. "Good. You're learning."

The world bled away again.

And now he was falling.

Through shards of mirrors.

Each one showed a different version of himself.

Some kind.

Some cruel.

Some dead.

Some smiling with eyes that weren't his.

And behind them all, something hunted.

The Memory Eater.

It didn't need teeth.

It didn't need claws.

It unmade by forgetting.

Riven screamed—and that too began to fade.

He almost forgot who he was.

Almost.

But then—

A voice.

Sharp. Familiar.

"Hold on to this."

Something warm hit his palm.

A charm.

Lira's.

It pulsed with light, blinding, golden, fierce.

And suddenly—

He remembered.

Everything.

The trials. The pain. Her sacrifice. The system.

His sword.

It snapped back into existence in a flash of blue flame, and the void shattered like brittle glass around him.

The Memory Eater hissed as it was dragged into view.

Now it wasn't a man.

It was a mass of eyes. Memories stolen and played on repeat. Children dying. Mothers weeping. Soldiers failing. Every trauma, every moment of despair it had devoured… shown on loop.

"You cannot kill what you cannot name," it whispered.

"Maybe not," Riven said, blade igniting with light.

[Override Engaged – Echo Trigger Detected.]

[Skill Reactivated: Blade of the Lost (Emotive Sync – Rage)]

"But I can still try."

He surged forward.

The fight was more like a storm than a duel.

Every slash sent a ripple through the dreamspace. The Eater twisted reality with each dodge, conjuring illusions from Riven's past to weaken him. But he held on.

To his anger.

To her memory.

To himself.

And in the end—

He didn't kill it.

He named it.

"You are what we forget so we can live. You are guilt. You are grief. But you are not stronger than choice."

He stabbed the charm into its center.

Light exploded.

And everything burned away.

—

When Riven opened his eyes, he was lying at the Academy gates again.

Lira stood beside him, unharmed. Her eyes wide.

"You were… gone," she whispered.

"Not gone," he rasped. "Just… remembering."

She held out her hand and helped him up.

The Headmaster appeared moments later with a small squad of robed mages.

Behind them, the Librarian emerged from the shadows.

"It's started," she said.

Riven nodded. "Yeah. The first real test."

The Headmaster stepped forward. "You broke a trial designed by the Codex Council. One that wasn't meant to be escaped."

"And?"

"Your system changed."

Riven blinked.

Then it appeared.

[System Mutation Logged – Chaosborne Pathway Activated]

[Passive Unlocked: Memory Anchor]You cannot be rewritten by artificial illusions, memory attacks, or perception-altering constructs. Permanent resistance to codex-type manipulation applied.

[New Title Acquired: Mirrorbreaker]

[Hidden Class Progress: 17%]

He exhaled slowly.

So did the Headmaster.

"This changes things."

"No," Riven said, shaking his head. "This reveals them."

They all turned as a shadow loomed overhead.

A massive black raven, stitched together from spell-threads and glowing runes, descended to the Academy's tower. On its back rode a masked woman with silver eyes.

A new envoy.

The Council's second hand.

Riven didn't know her name.

But he recognized the aura.

This wasn't the last trial.

Just the next one.

He turned to Lira, who still watched the sky.

"They're not going to stop."

She looked up at him.

"And neither will we."