Shadows of the Past and the Flame of the Soul
"My past wasn't easy either," Darel said, his voice drifting as if he were wandering through a fog of memories.
The fire beside them flickered gently, painting his rugged face in shifting shades of gold and deep shadow. "I was always the outcast of my town… even though my family was wealthy and respected. When I was born, the world I was supposed to inherit turned its back on me. They wanted a daughter—a perfect legacy. Instead, they got me… a boy marked by a strange, dark blemish on my face."
He touched his cheek unconsciously, his fingers tracing the skin where the mark had once been a badge of shame. "They called me disgusting. Hideous. My own parents would cover my face whenever guests arrived. I used to think… maybe if I stayed quiet enough, if I became invisible, they might find a way to love me someday."
I remained silent, watching the embers pop and hiss. The air in the room grew heavy, saturated with a grief that felt all too familiar.
"The other children… they were cruel. They hit me and called me cursed. Eventually, I started to believe them," Darel said, clenching his fist until his knuckles turned white. "Until one day… I met her."
He told me of a bright afternoon, a day when he had been beaten until his lips bled and his pride was shattered. While wandering through the market, head low in shame, he had bumped into a young girl.
"Ah—I'm sorry," he had muttered, too afraid to look up.
But the girl didn't recoil. She didn't laugh. Instead, she smiled—a warmth he had never known. "Your face… it's beautiful," she had said.
Darel had frozen. "What… what are you talking about?" he had snapped, his confusion masking his shock.
"Are you embarrassed?" she had giggled softly, leading him toward the edge of the forest where the sunlight fell through the leaves like golden ribbons.
"Who are you?" he had asked, mesmerized.
"I… I don't have a name," she replied softly.
"Then I'll give you one," Darel had declared. "How about Elira?"
The girl had smiled shyly, accepting the name that would later become a ghost in his heart. She told him his markings weren't a curse—not to her. She claimed she could see inside people, and that his heart was pure. But their peace was shattered by the shouts of townspeople following them.
"Run, Darel!" she had cried. "I'll go another way… but we'll meet again. I promise."
And then, she was gone, like a whisper swallowed by the wind.
Darel looked at me now, a profound sadness lingering in his eyes. "That's my past. That's who I was before I became a swordsman."
Silence fell between us—until that voice echoed in my skull again.
"Yes… yes, Riven. There are many like you. You will meet them all… soon."
I froze. My left eye began to throb with a sudden, violent heat. A faint, menacing red light flickered beneath my eyelid.
Darel stepped back, his eyes widening in shock. "You… you have a curse too, don't you?"
"Yes," I whispered, the word feeling like a confession. Then, I opened my left eye.
Flames burst to life within my iris, dancing like living, sentient fire.
"W-What is this?!" I shouted, clutching my face as the heat intensified. "Get out of me! Leave me alone!"
"Levin, stop!" Darel grabbed my arm, his grip firm. "You're hurting yourself!"
"You don't see it?! There's something alive inside my eye!"
Darel looked at me, his voice dropping to a haunting quiet. "No, Riven. I see nothing. Just your eye… trembling in the dark."
My breathing grew ragged as sweat rolled down my face. Was I the only one who could see the monster within?
The firelight dimmed as if the shadows themselves were leaning in to listen. From the deepest corners of the room, a faint whisper drifted through the darkness:
"You're never alone, Riven. I'll always be watching…"
My eye glowed once more, a crimson beacon in the gloom.