The city never slept.
Even as dawn broke, the air in the lower districts reeked of coal, blood, and sorrow. The clang of metal echoed on a construction site. A dog barked. Somewhere, someone screamed. No one cared.
Riven Vale opened his eyes to the spiderweb crack in the ceiling above his bed. The ceiling was stained and familiar. A cobweb swung just above a draft from the broken window.
Another nightmare.
No- this was not a nightmare.
There was a voice. A whisper. Cold and smooth like a piece of iron dragged across stone.
"You were born to break."
Slowly Riven sat up, and his fingers brushed the side of his neck where he could have sworn something wrapped around him in the night. Close, invisible pressure. As if something was watching him...or waiting.
He exhaled. He could see his breath slightly fogging in the morning air.
With no sweeping motions, he hurriedly dressed — faded black shirt, worn pants, holes in the soles of the boots. It didn't matter. He wasn't trying to impress anybody.
Riven was a Dark Bearer, they did not look at him. They looked away.
Down in the kitchen of the orphanage, a few of the younger kids looked down to avoid his gaze. The caretaker, Miss Lysa, plunked his food on the table and walked off without a word in acknowledgement.
The bread was hard and stale. The soup, cold. He ate it anyway.
He was getting used to silence.
***
Ten years since the Dark Night.
That accursed night still remained in the thoughts of everyone in the city. The sky turned pitch black. Stars vanished. And when the daylight returned…a handful of children were cursed with something unholy.
Cursed.
Monstrous.
Different.
Riven was one of them.
He did not know why he became a Dark Bearer. He did not remember the night he was born. But he remembered what followed.
His parents? Gone.
His house? Burned.
Everything he had and loved. Vanished.
The world would never let him forget what he was.
He headed into the streets. The sun barely peeked through thick clouds, casting a dull gray over the stone paths and rusted lanterns lining the alleyways.
People gave him space.
Some spat.
Others muttered prayers under their breath when he passed. It was a usual sight for him.
He kept walking.
But today was different. He could feel it. Something heavy pressed on his chest. Not fear. Not anger. Something else—tension.
That was when he heard it.
"Oi, freak."
Riven stopped.
Three enforcers in red coats stepped out from the alley behind him. Not official guards — just thugs licensed to beat down anyone without a coin or family name.
One of them cracked his knuckles.
"You didn't pay the street toll yesterday. Think you can walk around like you belong here?"
Riven didn't answer.
He had no money. He never did.
He turned to walk.
But a hand grabbed his shoulder. Another slammed into his gut, knocking the air from his lungs.
He hit the wall hard. Pain exploded across his side.
"Say something, cursed brat!"
Another punch.
Blood dripped from his mouth.
Then the world slowed.
He couldn't breathe.
Not because of the punches — but because of the voice.
"Call me. Call the Chain."
It was cold. Deep. Right behind his ear.
Riven blinked.
In his mind's eye, he saw something—dark, silver, coiled like a serpent made of chains. It shimmered with a glow that wasn't light at all but memory.
He didn't understand it.
But in that moment, in a puddle of his own blood, broken to the core, he reached toward it.
Clink.
The world suddenly snapped.
Chains cracked from the air around him—spectral, black, and burning with violet fire. They struck like serpents with a mind of their own. They struck the enforcers against the walls, the floor, each other.
The alley lit up with screams.
Riven fell to one knee. The world went blurry. The chains withdrew... but not entirely.
One wrapped around his right arm, a ghost of chains, barely there. Flickering.
His hand trembled.
Something was inside of him, something he felt was... gone.
A memory.
He didn't know which one, but it was gone. He knew it was important. Something warm. Something that used to make him smile.
But now… nothing.
His hands shook.
"What's this feeling? I can't..." he thought.
He could still hear the echo of the chain.
"Power… always has a price."
Riven didn't understand.
But somewhere deep down, he understood this was just the start.
He stood up slowly, choosing to ignore the terrified groans behind him.
For the first time in years, the people in the street were not looking through him.
They were staring – with fear.
And the chain on his arm pulsed softly.
"You are mine now, Riven Vale,"
"And I remember everything… everything but what the gods have forgotten."
[To be continued....]