"He will kill you. He'll smile while he does it."
"No," Riven whispered, almost too soft to hear. "That's not true."
"You saw it."
The room was quiet. Too quiet.
The sound of Soren's footsteps had long since faded, leaving Riven alone in the dim bedroom. But his heart pounded like war drums in his ears. Something wasn't right. Again.
"You're going to die."
There it was. That voice. Smooth, and familiar in a way that made Riven's stomach turn.
"Shut up," Riven hissed under his breath, clutching his chest. "Just shut up!"
No. The voice was calm. Steady. Not loud, not cruel—almost gentle. "I'm doing this for your own good. I wish… I wish I had someone to warn me. Maybe I wouldn't have died..."
Riven froze.
What?
His throat tightened. "Who are you?"
There was a pause. Then a breath of laughter—bitter and soft, like wind through broken glass. I'm Riven.
The air in the room dropped a degree. Riven blinked slowly, heart thudding harder.
