The morning sunlight filtered gently through the leaves, casting golden patterns that danced across the ground. The air was fresh, dew still clinging to the tips of the grass, and the sound of birds began to echo faintly in the distance.
Riven slowly opened his eyes.
His body was still leaning against a large stone. A worn jacket covered part of him, but that wasn't the first thing he noticed. There was a soft, warm weight at his right side.
Slowly, Riven turned his head carefully. His breath hitched at once.
Aria.
The woman leaned against his body, so close that the faint scent of her crimson hair slipped into his senses. Her face was only an inch away from his, and what made his heart pound harder was the fact that those crimson eyes were open, staring straight at him.
Riven instinctively held his breath, as if even the smallest movement would shatter that fragile moment.
Their gazes locked.
Silence. Long and deep.
No words were spoken, yet the air between them shifted. There was a strange warmth, a faint awkwardness, and perhaps... a comfort neither of them wished to admit. As though the world around them faded, leaving only the two of them inside a fragile, silent space that felt almost unreal.
But the moment broke with a heavy groan and a small whine.
"Uuugghhh… my back hurts… broooother…"
Melly sat up, scratching her head and stretching as though waking from a thousand-year sleep. Her loud voice split the morning stillness, echoing across the quiet riverside.
"Ahh, my head's spinning. Why did I sleep leaning against such a hard rock—"
Ashtoria finally averted her gaze and sat upright. She said nothing, but her movements were slow, as though she was still processing what had just happened.
Riven only exhaled softly. No teasing remark, no sarcastic comment. He didn't even know how he was supposed to react to what just occurred.
'Why does this strange woman keep looking at me like that,' he muttered inwardly.
And yet, the weight of her gaze unsettled him. 'Did she watch me the whole night?' The thought was absurd, ridiculous even. He brushed it off almost immediately. 'No way. Why would she?'
But when he glanced back, Ashtoria's eyes had already returned to him, steady and intent. The weight of that gaze made Riven's throat tighten, and without realizing it, he swallowed hard. He turned away sharply, muttering again inside. 'Impossible…'
That fleeting moment, however, stirred something old and bitter. A memory he thought long buried. His mother from the old world.
It always happened. Whenever he faced a strange woman he couldn't quite understand, her face would return.
After his father died in a work accident, leaving behind nothing but debts, his mother had been forced to work harder to keep five children alive.
She would come home late at night. It didn't take Riven long to realize what she had turned to—prostitution.
He still remembered the night he confronted her, the shouting, the tears, his desperate pleas. But in the end, she continued anyway. She did whatever it took to feed them.
At first, Riven despised her for it. But slowly, painfully, he began to understand. Until the day she disappeared without a word. Gone, just like that, leaving him to shoulder the role of provider for four siblings still too young to survive on their own.
Half a year later, news reached him: she had remarried, becoming the second wife of a small but wealthy merchant.
Riven could understand her reasons. But forgiveness? That was something he would never give.
Maybe that was why he always felt disgust whenever he saw prostitutes. And maybe, it was also the reason he hadn't scolded Melly the day she gave away their money to one, after the woman claimed she needed to feed her children.
Unaware of the storm inside her brother's head, Melly patted her stomach and whined with a pout,
"Brother, I'm hungry! Do we still have roast meat?"
Riven sighed. "You just woke up. Don't you think about anything other than food? How can I have such a gluttonous sister?"
Melly giggled.
Riven only shook his head and stood up. He stretched his arms, loosening stiff muscles after a night sleeping outdoors. His eyes drifted back to Ashtoria. She was fixing her hair now, strands still damp, before walking slowly toward the river.
For a moment, Riven touched his shoulder where her head had rested. It was still warm. He gave a faint smile, said nothing, then crouched to reignite the fire pit that had gone cold.
And so the morning began, with dew still clinging to the earth and unfamiliar feelings lingering between them—fragile yet undeniable, like faint embers waiting to stir.
.
.
.
Before the sun had fully risen and their journey resumed, Riven stepped onto a flat clearing near the river. He drew his sword—Riftmaker, a blade white as ice, reflecting the morning light like frozen glass. Its surface gleamed cold, and along the steel ran fine etchings, resembling crystalline fractures.
He took a deep breath, planting his feet firmly, and began to move.
The motions were slow, deliberate. Each swing measured with precision. His left hand steadied his balance while his right hand guided Riftmaker through the air, carving soft yet cutting whispers. It was not training for strength, but for control.
From a distance, Ashtoria sat upon a boulder, tying her half-damp hair with a simple cord. Her gaze was quiet but intense, fixed on the man who moved as though dancing with his sword.
In a blink, she was beside him.
"Why did you choose the sword as your weapon?" she asked, her voice calm, carrying a hint of curiosity she could not hide.
Riven paused mid-motion. His body remained half-bent, Riftmaker's tip lowered toward the earth. He turned, surprised to find her watching so intently.
It took a few seconds before he answered. Straightening slowly, his eyes met hers.
"I just feel… the sword fits in my hand," he replied quietly.
Ashtoria's brow lifted faintly.
Riven wiped a trace of sweat from his neck. His gaze lingered on Riftmaker, tracing its shape before nodding.
"I don't know why," he continued softly. "But whenever I hold it, something strange happens. It feels… like I could cut through anything."