There was a time Riven believed in dreams. Believed in Liam.
They built their first platform together in a condemned dorm room at the Paltros Institute, fueled by stolen Wi-Fi, caffeine tabs, and desperation. "The Dream Circuit," they called it—a place where raw, imperfect voices could be heard above the noise.
Then Everline came. And Liam left.
Riven didn't watch the betrayal happen in real time. He felt it—like a creative pulse that snapped mid-beat. One day Liam was there. The next, he was Everline's golden prodigy. Another genius co-opted by the system they swore to disrupt.
Riven never forgot.
He never stopped building either.
Years in the shadows turned him into something else—a curator of the forgotten, a guardian of the raw. He moved through blackstream forums, pirated nodes, and whisper-net communities, where creators weren't monetized—they were free.
And now, as he stared at Liam's face on the terminal, older, glossier, crowned by fame, Riven didn't feel hatred.
He felt sorrow.
"You turned the revolution into a stage play," he whispered.
But there was still a spark left. Maybe not for forgiveness… but for something real.
The End of POV