12. The Cracks Beneath

Chapter Twelve: The Cracks Beneath

Some monsters are born. Others are made. But the most dangerous ones are the ones who can't tell the difference anymore.

Riven dreamed of fire again.

But this time, he was not running from it.

He was it.

A blaze with no shape. A hunger with no end. Screams curled like smoke in his ears—some voices he knew, some he didn't. And in the center of it all stood the Flame Queen, barefoot atop a mountain of ash, her arms open wide like a mother welcoming a prodigal son.

"Come home, my beloved."

Riven stepped forward.

And woke in a cold sweat.

Dawn hadn't broken yet, but the sky had turned a pale bruised gray.

Riven sat at the edge of the bed, shirtless, fingers pressed against his temples. The obsidian shard lay on the table across the room, wrapped in dark cloth—yet he could still feel it. Like a second heartbeat pulsing low in his chest.

Kael stirred behind him.

"You're up early," came the groggy voice.

"Couldn't sleep," Riven murmured. "The dreams are getting worse."

Kael sat up slowly, reaching for him. "You need rest."

"What I need is for her voice to stop."

Kael's hand touched his shoulder, warm and grounding. "We'll find a way."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true."

Riven turned, eyes hollowed by shadows.

"What if it's not? What if she's inside me now, Kael? What if I become the very thing you've sworn to destroy?"

Kael didn't flinch. He rose from the bed and crossed the room in three strides.

"If that day comes," he said, voice steady, "then I'll stop you. But until then—I'll fight for you."

Riven stared at him.

"You'd really kill me if I lost control?"

Kael didn't answer.

He didn't need to.

The next few days passed in uneasy quiet.

The army regrouped and began preparing for the march home. Scouts returned from the north with rumors of another cult splinter forming in the Frosted Wastes. Mages worked to cleanse what remained of the Blackvale ruins, though none dared touch the obsidian shard.

Riven kept to himself.

He ate less. Slept in fragments. Spoke only when spoken to.

Kael watched, but gave him space.

He understood grief.

He just didn't know if this time, space would be enough.

It was Olivia who noticed it first.

She'd been helping the healers triage the wounded when she passed by Riven sitting alone near the cliffside.

"Riven?" she asked gently.

He didn't look at her.

"I'm fine."

"You're lying."

A bitter smile touched his lips. "Everyone lies about pain. It makes it easier to survive."

She sat beside him anyway.

"You saved us all. You do know that, don't you?"

"Did I?" he said flatly. "Or did I just delay what's coming?"

She hesitated. Then offered, "When I was a child, I nearly drowned. I fell into a frozen river, and I couldn't feel anything but cold and silence. I thought I was going to die."

"What happened?"

"My brother pulled me out. Said I looked dead already. But that's the thing… I wasn't. I was still fighting, even if I didn't know it."

She looked at him, unwavering.

"You're still fighting, Riven. Even if it doesn't look like it."

Riven swallowed.

And for a flicker of a second, he let himself believe her.

That night, it happened.

The attack came without warning.

A pulse of fire erupted from the edge of the warded circle around camp—sending sentries flying, tents ablaze.

But it wasn't the Flame Queen.

It was Riven.

Or something that wore his skin.

Eyes glowing like embers. Hair whipped by invisible winds. Flames curled around his arms, uncontrolled, ravenous.

He was floating—barely above the ground, obsidian shard clutched in his hand.

Kael was the first to reach him.

"Riven!"

No response.

The fire surged outward.

Kael drew his blade and stepped through it—his armor blistering from the heat. He approached slowly, heart thundering.

"Riven, listen to me. You're stronger than this. You are not her puppet."

Riven's lips parted—but the voice that came out wasn't his.

"He belongs to me."

The Queen.

Kael clenched his jaw. "Then come and take him."

He lunged.

Blade clashed with fire—but something else surged through it: memory. Emotion. Love.

It wasn't just steel.

It was everything Kael had left.

Riven staggered.

The shard in his hand cracked—glowing red.

His body spasmed—and the fire collapsed inward, swallowing itself.

Kael caught him before he hit the ground.

"Breathe," he whispered.

Riven gasped, eyes wide, tears mixing with soot.

"I—I didn't mean—Kael, I couldn't stop it, I couldn't—"

"I know," Kael said. "You're still you. I've got you."

Later, the mages declared the shard too dangerous to keep.

"We must destroy it," they insisted.

But Riven shook his head.

"No. It's tied to her. If we destroy it now, we might lose our only way to stop her for good."

Olivia frowned. "You're risking too much."

"I don't care," Riven said. "I need to end this. I need to end her."

Kael watched him.

And didn't say a word.

Because he could feel it too:

Riven was changing.

The fire wasn't just in him anymore.

It was him.

And there might come a day when Kael had to choose between saving the kingdom…

…or saving the man he loved.