Chapter Twelve: The vision and the summons

CHAPTER 12: The Vision and the Summons

The fire crackled softly as Arielle tucked herself deeper into her cloak, the warmth barely enough to fend off the chill clinging to the ruins. The sky had long since swallowed the last of the light, and Riven had vanished into the night, just as he often did. No words. No explanation. Just shadow and silence.

She'd stopped questioning it.

Mostly.

Still, tonight, something about his absence unsettled her more than usual. Maybe it was the way he'd fought earlier—effortless, detached, almost bored as he erased their enemies from existence. Or maybe it was the quiet that had followed, filled with a tension that wasn't hers alone.

He'd sat near the fire for a long while.

And for once… it had felt almost like companionship.

Almost.

Now, with him gone, she felt it again—the ache of the bond between them. Not painful. Not even emotional. Just… present. Like a pulse beneath her ribs. A reminder.

She closed her eyes.

Sleep claimed her quickly.

In the dream, she stood once more in the temple of her childhood. But it was wrong.

The walls bled light.

The floor cracked with divine energy. Statues wept shadows instead of tears.

The Grail hovered before her—an enormous chalice made of light and gold and fire. But it had changed. Fractured.

A voice, vast and echoing, filled the space around her.

"You are treading toward ruin."

Arielle's heart stuttered. "I don't understand."

"You walk beside fire and think it will not burn you."

Images flashed—Riven's eyes glowing as he obliterated the spirits, his voice wrapping around her dreams like a chain. Her hand in his, her power tied to his.

"The bond you carry is not the first. But it may be the last."

"What does that mean?" she asked.

"You are becoming the flame. But fire cannot be controlled. Not by Heaven. Not by Hell."

The Grail cracked further.

Blood seeped from the rim.

Arielle stepped back. "Is this a warning?"

"This is a choice."

The vision shattered.

She woke gasping, sweat slicked across her skin, breath fogging in the cold air. The fire had nearly gone out. She sat up quickly, her pulse pounding in her ears.

And Riven still hadn't returned.

-----

He moved through the trees like smoke.

He didn't sleep. Not truly. But tonight, he had wandered farther than usual.

Something in him was… restless.

It had started after the ruins. After her dream—though she hadn't said it aloud, he could taste the residue of it in her aura. Holy visions always left a scent. And hers carried more than prophecy.

It carried fear.

She feared him.

And yet… she did not run.

That's what intrigued him. Confused him. Called to something in his chest he didn't have a name for.

He didn't like it.

So he left. As he always did when confusion threatened his control.

The forest stretched wider here. Older. And in the center of the twisted grove, near a black stone circle veiled by ash-leaves, a figure waited.

Tall.

Strong.

And burning.

"Luceryn," Riven said flatly.

The eldest.

Luceryn, First Prince of Hell. Flameborn and favored. With red hair like magma and golden eyes that never blinked.

"Riven," Luceryn replied, voice smooth as molten steel. "You missed the last gathering."

"I wasn't invited."

"You were expected."

Silence fell between them like a blade.

Luceryn took a slow step forward. "You've been on the surface far too long."

"Orders."

"Whose?"

Riven didn't answer.

Luceryn's eyes narrowed. "Something's different about you."

Luceryn ignored the sarcasm. "You reek of divine energy. Something holy is clinging to your scent."

Riven gave no reaction.

But his hands curled subtly.

Luceryn smiled. "You found her, didn't you?"

Still no answer.

Luceryn's smile faded. "You didn't just find her. You bonded."

Riven's eyes flicked up. Cold. Unyielding.

"I didn't choose it."

"But it's happened."

A slow inhale. The weight of a thousand judgments hung in that breath.

Luceryn stepped closer.

"A human, Riven?" he whispered. "You, of all of us. The cold one. The pure-blood. The one Father said would never fall."

"I didn't fall."

Luceryn's smile twisted. "Oh, but you did. You just didn't notice."

Riven remained still.

Luceryn circled him like a beast.

"What is she to you? Your weapon? Your burden? Your plaything?"

"She's none of your concern."

"But she is Father's concern."

That drew Riven's eyes back.

Luceryn stopped.

"He sent me with a message."

"I'm listening."

"Our father wishes to speak with you. At once."

Riven's jaw tensed.

Luceryn smiled again.

"Bring the girl. Or don't. But don't delay. You know what happens when he's kept waiting."

Riven turned away.

But Luceryn wasn't done.

"One more thing."

Riven paused.

"You're different. There's emotion leaking out of you. Cracks in the ice."

Riven's voice was deathly soft.

"Touch her, and I'll make sure you don't leave the surface."

Luceryn grinned.

"There he is. My little brother. So human now."

He vanished into flame.

Riven returned just before dawn.

Arielle was still awake, sitting upright by the barely-burning fire, her face pale with the remnants of the vision. Her eyes locked onto him as he approached.

She didn't speak.

And neither did he.

He sat beside the fire, added a few branches, and leaned back, his gaze fixed on the flames.

Her voice came softly.

"I saw something. A warning."

He glanced sideways.

She didn't elaborate.

He didn't press.

The bond pulsed between them, a silent tether, warm and strange.

"Where do we go next?" she asked.

He answered without looking.

"South. Into shadow."

She frowned. "Why?"

"Because my father called."

Her blood ran cold.

"The devil?"

He looked at her finally. Eyes like ash and fire.

"He wants to meet you."

And then, for the first time, Arielle realized something terrifying:

She wasn't ready.

But it didn't matter.

Because Hell was calling.

And they had no choice but to answer.

The morning light was barely a whisper across the horizon, the sky painted in pale hues of ash and rust. Arielle sat by the fire, her shoulders tense, hands gripping her cloak tighter than necessary as she watched Riven prepare.

He moved with the same quiet confidence he always did—calm, measured, and impossibly composed. As if the weight of Hell's summons were nothing but dust on his boots.

But she couldn't keep silent.

"Why?" she asked flatly, " Why do you think I'll go to hell with you, have a mission?"Her voice came out stronger now.

Riven paused.

Turned.

Met her eyes.

His gaze was steady. Hazel burning with something unreadable—quiet intensity wrapped in frost.

"I never said you had to," he said.

"Good," she shot back, but her voice shook slightly. "Because I'm not going."

"You are," he replied calmly.

Her eyes flared. "You don't get to decide that."

"No," he agreed, "but the bond does."

Arielle stood. "I'm not some leash to be yanked whenever your cursed bloodline calls for a meeting."

He stepped closer, not menacing, just… firm. "If I go alone, they'll sense you through me. The bond bleeds through every spell, every thought. They'll find you anyway. And they'll think I'm hiding you."

Her breath caught.

"And what happens then?"

His jaw clenched slightly. "They'll tear through this realm to get to you. And they won't be as gentle as I am."

"Gentle?" she choked, incredulous. "You're the definition of terrifying."

His lips twitched, almost like a smirk. "Then imagine worse."

Silence stretched between them. A wind passed through the trees. The bond pulsed faintly.

He finally spoke, lower now.

"If you don't come… you're not just risking yourself. You're risking the villages we pass. The people. The balance. They'll burn it all just to flush you out."

Her lips parted but no sound came.

Then, softly, "You think I'd be safer in Hell?"

He didn't hesitate. "With me? Yes."

And something in the way he said it—cold but certain—made her shiver.

He turned away.

"Gather your things. We move at dusk."

Behind him, Arielle stood frozen.

And for the first time since she met him…

She realized she didn't know if he was lying.

Or if Hell had just become the safer option.