The ship didn't speak.
It moved through the storm like it belonged there low in the water, hull black as scorched bone, prow shaped like a serpent's skull. No sail, no flag. Just motion. Purpose. Silence. Lightning cracked overhead, revealing the full scale of it, a long, narrow vessel built for stealth, not strength. Its hull barely creaked against the waves, as though the sea itself feared to make noise around it.
Riven stood on the cliffside, soaked and shivering, every muscle in his battered body taut. His golden flare still hissed behind him, marking him like a beacon. His wings, scorched from the last fight and slick with rain, were furled tight against his back, dripping steam. The storm howled, but in that moment, everything seemed to still.
He squinted. There, movement on the deck. A ramp unfolded slowly from the side, chains unspooling in an eerie hush as they clinked against the rocky shore.
A figure in black oilcloth, face hidden under a deep hood, boots crunching on wet stone. She walked like a predator, measured, efficient, relaxed. She stopped ten feet away.
She didn't speak at first. Just looked at him.
Then she said something unexpected.
"You're late."
Riven blinked. "Huh?"
She glanced at the flare. Then his wings.
"The fire. The wings. The flare. You're the boy who burned the manor."
"Do I look like I care who you think I am?" he growled, drawing his cutlass halfway. His legs trembled beneath him.
"No. But you should care who I am."
She stepped forward and slowly drew back her hood. Her face was scarred, one deep ridge along her cheekbone, as though something had tried to claw her face off and almost succeeded. Her short silver hair clung to her scalp in the rain, and her eyes, gray, sharp, unwavering, met his like she'd already decided who he was before speaking to him.
"Name's Corva. I've come a long way to find you, Riven Caelum."
He tensed. "You know my name?"
"I know more than that. I know you're Lunarian. I know what you took from the crypt. I know what you became."
"Well i'm obviously Lunarian lady."
.......
He said nothing. Just stared.
Corva sighed and gestured behind her. "You coming?"
He didn't trust her. Not even a little. But he needed shelter. Needed answers. And more than anything, he needed time.
He followed.
The interior of the ship was unlike anything Riven had seen.
No crew greeted them. No sailors roamed. It was quiet, eerily so. Lanterns lined the walls, each glowing not with ordinary fire but with a steady golden light. Riven paused at one. It felt... warm. Not like fire. Like sunlight.
"Solar prisms," Corva explained. "Ancient tech. Reacts to celestial energy."
"Celestial what now?" he muttered.
She led him deeper into the ship, down a narrow hallway of dark wood and etched metal. He noticed faint sigils carved into the walls, some looked like stars, others like flame, others like eyes.
"You've been watching me," he said.
"Longer than you know."
They reached a cabin, clean, small, surprisingly warm. A cot, a table with bandages, dry clothes, food. A basin of water steamed faintly.
"Rest. We'll talk when you're not about to fall over."
He didn't argue. He was too tired.
He closed the door behind him, stripped the soaked cloth from his body, and stood in front of the mirror.
What he saw was not the boy who had crawled through the streets of Wyrmsreach. Not anymore.
His skin shimmered faintly, like something golden pulsed just beneath the surface. His wings, torn, ragged, still held a glow. His eyes, once sharp and crimson, now glowed faintly with pale gold light.
And on his chest, just over his heart, a mark had formed.
A sigil.
Circular. Etched in flame. With rays pointing outward and small glyphs around its rim.
He reached up, touched it,
and fire raced through his veins.
He stumbled back, gasping. The symbol flared, and more like it bloomed on his skin, in his palms, across his shoulder blades, down his spine.
And somehow…
He could read them.
He didn't know how. But the moment he saw them, the meanings poured into him like ink into water.
Light. Ascend. Guardian. Chainbreaker. Caelus. Heir.
Each symbol pulsed with resonance.
"I can read it," he whispered.
Corva's voice startled him.
"Good. You should be able to. You were born for it."
She stepped into the doorway, leaning against the frame.
"It's not just fire, Riven. It's memory. Celestial language. You've been branded by your own bloodline."
He stared at her, panting.
"What the hell does that mean?"
Corva entered the room, tossing him a dark shirt, he ignored it, and knelt to stoke the lantern.
"The Solis Solis no Mi didn't just give you power. It awakened something dormant. Your blood remembers. That script on your body? That's ancient Lunarian. Not even most scholars can translate it."
"But you can."
He swallowed. "Why me?"
Corva's expression softened, just a bit.
"Because you're not just a Lunarian, Riven. You're something older. Something they tried to erase."
She pointed to his chest.
"That symbol? That's the Mark of Caelus. Last recorded bearer died six hundred years ago. His name's been wiped from every record. But he was a god to some. A demon to others."
She stood.
"They're going to hunt you, Riven. The Marines. The World Government. Even other Lunarians, if there are any left. Because if you live long enough to understand what you are..."
Her eyes locked on his.
"...you'll change the world."
------------------------------------------------
That night, Riven dreamed.
Not of Wyrmsreach, or fire, or blood. But of light.
A vast sky of stars. An ancient city floating in the clouds, crowned in gold flame. Figures with wings of light stood in rows, heads bowed. At the center, a towering figure of radiant gold, his face obscured by a halo that burned too bright to see.
He held a sword of solar fire.
And when he spoke, Riven heard his own name,
"Caelum."
He woke with a gasp.
Sweating. Shaking. Glowing.
The sigil on his chest burned like a second heart.
Corva waited outside.
"Come," she said. "It's time you met the others."
She led him below deck.
There, in a hidden chamber lit with golden crystals, were six others.
Not Lunarians. But touched by something strange, each of them bore marks like his. Each of them had strange weapons, cloaks of fire, resistant fabric, and eyes that watched him with wariness and wonder.
Corva introduced them in turn,
"Yenno. Cartographer. Can read celestial pathways."
"Brigg. Engineer. Builds constructs from light."
"Alaine. Combat specialist. Uses solar pulse weapons."
"Nox and Veil. Twins. They manipulate heat and refraction."
"And this," she gestured to the tall man in the corner, skin dark and glowing faintly, "is Oberan. He remembers the Old Fire."
Riven stepped into the circle.
"Why me?" he asked again.
Oberan's deep voice rumbled.
"Because you carry the Key. The Titan's soul. The Caelus Flame. And we need you to remember how to use it."
Riven took a shaky breath.
He didn't know if he trusted them.
But he had to right?
They somehow know everything about his abilities.
Maybe they could help....