Shadows Beneath Silver Skies

The group made camp near the ruins of an old elven observatory, its shattered spires jutting into the star-streaked sky like broken fingers reaching toward the heavens. A cold breeze whispered through the forest canopy, and faint glimmers of starlight filtered through the leaves, casting silver shadows.

Riven sat alone atop a moss-covered pillar, mask partially lifted as he ate in silence. The others had begun settling for the night, but their presence never escaped his notice.

Especially not hers.

Ylira Faegwyn approached quietly, her silver hair cascading like moonlight over her shoulders, robes swaying gently with each graceful step. She paused a few feet away, carrying two steaming cups of herbal tea.

"I thought you'd still be awake," she said softly, offering one to him.

He accepted it with a nod. "Couldn't sleep. Too many… calculations."

"Always the strategist," Ylira smiled, sitting beside him. "But tonight isn't a battlefield. Not yet."

They sipped in silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken thoughts.

"I saw what happened with Selene," Ylira finally said, her voice even. "You bound her to your cause."

"She offered. I accepted," Riven replied flatly.

"She's dangerous, Riven. Not just with her magic—her loyalty is... complex."

Riven looked at her. "So is yours."

That made her pause. "You think I haven't already chosen my side?"

"I think you're still figuring out what I am," he said.

Her blue eyes shimmered as they turned to him. "You're not what you pretend to be. Not just some wandering masked mercenary. You're something broken... something reforged."

Riven didn't answer. The fire crackled below in the camp.

"You terrify me sometimes," she admitted. "Because I see what lies beneath your silence. Not cruelty—but an abyss of control, of decisions no one else would dare to make."

"And yet you stay," he said.

"Because something in me hopes you're more than your secrets. And... because I've seen the weight you carry." She placed a hand over his, warm and steady. "Let me carry some of it too."

He stared at their joined hands. The flicker of emotion that passed through him wasn't weakness—it was memory. A time before masks and time-loops. A time when he had something to lose.

"You've always been the first to see me," he murmured.

"And I'll be the last to forget," she whispered back.

For once, the mask didn't feel like armor—it felt unnecessary.

Above them, a falling star streaked across the sky, silent and swift.

And for the first time in a long time, Riven let the silence be peace, not preparation.