A silence pressed down, thicker than snow, heavier than the intoxicating smell of iron.
Blubblhh....blurrrhhh...
In it, the sound of blood carried clearer than ever; slow and deliberate as it bubbled hot.
Riven's breath fogged in front of him, rising quick, uneven.
'Something's here...'
He felt it.
His ears strained against the hush, until every note of the forest felt sharpened.
That breath...
It lingered on his mind, scraping as his eyes scanned the trees.
"Vluhhhhrrrhhhlllssshhhkkk--"
Again.
The breath came again, drawn out, dragging through the trees like a tide rushing from the shore.
It wasn't the wind.
"...haa.."
Wind shifted, carried light things with it.
This...this sank.
It pressed on his ears, his chest, as if the forest was respiring through him.
It was dark all around as his lungs rebelled. Hitching against the rhythm, his breath no longer felt his own.
"...Come out," he muttered. "Just come out..."
Nothing replied to the low murmurs.
Thump!
His heart pulsed, before he took a breath:
"..haa..."
Soft it left.
Soft it returned.
"..haa..."
His body froze.
A tingle ran up his spine as the sound flowed again:
"...haa-aahh..."
It was his voice...
A breath that belonged to him, a distinct sound...
But his lips were pressed, slightly quivering at the sounds the trees rippled through.
It didn't stop:
"...haaa--aaahh..."
In the midst of dozens of trees, all coated in crimson blood whilst the floor ran hot, Riven was stood rooted.
The breath ran longer than lungs could hold.
Wet.
Hollow.
It splintered through, bleeding back at him.
His chest hitched.
He didn't want to open his mouth anymore...for it seemed his breath wasn't his own any longer.
"...haa--aaahhh... leee...."
Again.
A grip on his neck seemed to form in his mind as the sound warped; syllables were crawling into shape.
"...It's not real. It's not real..."
Veins stood sharp, as his grip tightened.
"...haa--aaah... leee-vvve..."
It wasn't words. Not yet.
Thump!
But it was close enough to scrape the barriers of language.
A tremor ran along his teeth, grinding through skull like another layer of marrow.
'Leave?' The word rattled in his head.
His chin dipped, as his shoulders heaved once; shallow then still.
"...You think I don't want to?"
The words came low, more breath than sound...mimicking this dire situation.
It wasn't shouted.
It wasn't wild.
Slow it came.
Each syllable bled from clenched teeth, whilst his grey eyes sparked.
His hand shook as his chest rose.
What was dealing with?
What had he stepped into?
How was it using his voice?
'Always another trial. Always another shadow waiting to feed.'
His fingers twitched violently at his side.
It didn't matter if it was the undead, a notebook or this very forest.
It never stopped.
Splosh.
A brief silence pressed as he took a short step.
"...It's always something."
Blubblhh....blurrrhhh...
The sound ran hot, but beneath its gurgle:
"...more..."
Riven's jaw locked.
More?
The word floated heavy.
His breath pulled, a harsh drag from his throat.
"...No."
The denial came raw, bitten out.
"...more... more..."
It didn't care....whatever it was.
Each syllable dragged wet, rising a tingle across his features.
Riven's nail split skin in his palm, the feel of heat rising all around...
Truly ironic considering the grand scheme.
"I said no..." The words faltered, almost trembling.
He shook slightly amongst the dark atmosphere brewing.
All around the trees slicked with blood, and carried that deathly smell.
Thump!
His heart pulsed through his long coat, pumping a purity that the forest seemed to covet.
Why was there so much blood all around?
Sploorrssh.
The ground heaved, the blood stirring it seemed.
Then:
"...Looorrd..."
It crawled through, sickly and drawn out.
"...of...Blood..."
Two words, simple in nature, but they hit heavier than a dozen.
Thum-
'Lord of Blood...?'
The phrase slithered through his head, foreign but it sounded significant.
The weight leeched through his veins.
"What--" His voice cracked, low and raw as he stood.
"What does that even mean...?"
His grip refused to loosen, veins rising sharp along.
His eyes had never remained still, always scanning, but the dark gave him nothing.
Was it cursing him? Mocking him?
Did it even matter anymore?
The words held weight...but who was speaking them?
It was using his breath....his voice.
How?
So many questions, no answers.
"...haaa..."
Riven took a breath before his lips parted:
"...Come out."
The words left strained, bordering on the edge of fatigue and frustration.
"Stop hiding...just come out."
Would it really answer?
The question seemed to already hold a solution.
Of course it wouldn---
There was no sound, no presence.
Nothing at all.
The only reason he'd even seen it was because of his endless scans, the frantic sweep of his eyes across the trees.
His eyes froze on it.
It wasn't there before.
Not a shadow.
Not blood.
Not a tree.
It was a figure.
His blade shook as he threatened to fall to his knees.
Pale. Dripping. It stood where the trees bent wrong.
Brown hair, ruffled and damp.
Grey eyes, hollow in depth.
A sunken face, void of expression.
A long coat, blue in colour.
At the waist? A blade with dark wrappings on its grip.
It was him.