Chapter 12: Cinder Knight

They passed through an old watchline just before dusk.

Cracked stone arches. A broken trail half-swallowed by roots. Wind whistled through hollow towers, blowing ash in spirals along the path.

Riven walked ahead, eyes half-lidded, sword in hand but lowered. Veyla was behind him, quiet, her footsteps light. Neither of them had spoken much since the last fight.

He wasn't sure what bothered her more, how easy it had been for him to kill the Warden, or how quiet he'd been after.

They stopped at the edge of a wide clearing. Ruined pillars jutted from the ground, each etched with faded runes. Some of them looked like shrines. Others, graves.

A weathered sign creaked in the wind, etched with bold letters: The Graveyard of Cinder Knights.

Riven tilted his head slightly. "Someone's here."

Veyla was already drawing her blade. "I feel it too."

They stepped into the open, and saw a knight.

He stood motionless in the center of the clearing, facing away. His armor was battered but still proud, silver plates trimmed in black. A red cloak clung to his back, tattered at the bottom. The hilt of a greatsword rose over his shoulder.

The air around him shimmered faintly. Not from heat.

"Is that…?" Riven asked.

Veyla nodded. "A Cinder Knight."

That should've meant something noble, but apparently it didn't.

The knight turned slowly, revealing the faint glow of an old Grace mark burned into the steel of his chestplate. It pulsed gold, but only barely. Like a dying candle.

"Step back," Veyla warned. "If he's still bound to Grace, he'll see the Ash."

Too late. The knight's eyes locked on Riven's chest.

And he moved.

Not fast, but purposeful. A slow draw of his sword, he spoke no words.

The greatsword scraped the ground behind him, leaving a trail of sparks as he ran forward towards Riven.

Riven stepped forward. No posturing. No speech.

Just instinct.

His blade cut through the air in an arc wide enough to decapitate three men. Riven ducked, rolled under the swing, and felt the shockwave tear stone apart behind him.

The knight didn't stop. He spun, dragging his greatsword behind him, sparks flying in the air as it carved a line through the ground.

Riven's boots skidded.

He kicked off the wall, flipped midair, and landed behind the knight in one smooth motion.

Slash.

He struck at the back of the knight's leg, found a weak joint and his blade bit deep.

The knight grunted.

But instead of stumbling, he twisted around unnaturally fast and backhanded Riven across the ribs.

The impact sent him flying.

He hit the ground hard and slid several feet away, gasping for air.

"He's definitely not human," he muttered.

"Not anymore, it seems" Veyla said. She hadn't joined the fight, yet. She just stood and watched, this was his fight not hers.

The knight came again, slower now. Calculating.

His next swing was a vertical strike, meant to split him in two.

Riven dove left, came up fast, and brought his blade across the knight's ribs.

Sparks flew. Metal screamed.

The knight caught Riven's wrist mid-swing.

His grip like iron.

Riven's eyes widened, then narrowed.

The Rune flared.

Ash erupted from his chest. Not in flames but in force.

The knight reeled. Just enough.

Riven pivoted, twisted out of the grip, and slammed his elbow into the knight's helmet. Cracked the visor.

The knight staggered, took one knee.

Now.

Riven blurred forward.

One slash, two, three...he kept going.

He moved like smoke and struck like lightning, every step powered by the curse now etched into his chest.

The knight parried the third blow, but his defense was slower now. Seemed more desperate.

They clashed again.

Steel against steel. Sparks in the air.

Then, an opening.

The knight's foot slipped. Riven went low.

Blade reversed.

And drove it straight through the knight's side.

The knight froze.

The red light in his sword flickered out.

For a breath, everything stilled.

Then the knight dropped his blade and knelt down.

But not from pain, from choice.

Riven stepped back, chest heaving heavily.

The knight looked up, visor cracked just enough to see one eye, faded, dim.

"You fight like he did," he said, voice hollow.

"Who?"

"My brother," the knight murmured. "He burned before I did."

Then his body began to fade. Armor collapsing into dust.

But his sorrow?

That stayed.

It hit Riven like a wave.

A memory. A burning keep. A broken promise. Family bonds that should have lasted.

The Rune flared and Riven felt the knight's strength pour into him.

And also his grief.

It carved itself into his bones. When it was over, he was stronger.

Faster, sharper, but also colder.

Veyla stepped forward slowly. "You didn't just kill him."

"No," Riven said.

He looked down at his hands. They weren't shaking.

And that terrified him more than anything else.