The city never slept.
The slums reeked of coal, blood, and misery even at sunrise. Hammers clanged on a construction site. A dog barked. In the distance, someone shrieked. Nobody gave a damn.
Riven Vale opened his eyes to the spiderweb crack in the ceiling above his bed. The ceiling was stained and familiar, and a cobweb swung just above a draft from the broken window.
Another nightmare.
No- this was not a nightmare.
A voice cut through the dark—a whisper, but it was cold and sharp.
"They didn't build you to last."
Riven sat up slowly. He touched his neck; he could have sworn something was there in the night. Something tight, but invisible. Like something was watching him.
He exhaled.
He got up and 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.
The kitchen went dead quiet when he walked in. A couple of little ones bent their head, eyes glued to their laps like they'd been caught stealing. Over at the stove, Lysa didn't even bother looking up—just slid his plate across the table so hard it nearly tipped, then vanished into the pantry.
The bread was hard and stale. The soup, cold. He ate it anyway.
He was getting used to this silence and inferior feelings.
***
Ten years since The Dark Night.
They still remembered that night, when the sky went black, the stars died, and the dawn blessed the children 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 abandoned him.
And his House was burned before his eyes.
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 shine over the stone paths and rusted lanterns lining the alleyways.
People gave him space.
Some of them spat at the sight of something unpleasant, even though it was him.
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.
Two enforcers in red coats slid out of the alley behind him. Not real guards—just hired muscle with papers letting them crack skulls if you were poor or nameless. It was their usual routine.
One of them cracked his knuckles.
"You didn't pay the street toll yesterday. Think you can walk around like you belong here, bastard?"
Riven didn't answer.
He had no money. He never did, except for the money his parents gave him before abandoning him.
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. And cried with pain.
"Say something, cursed brat!"
Another punch.
Blood dripped from his mouth.
He couldn't breathe.
Not because of the punches, but because of the voice.
"Call me. Call the Chain. I will help you out of this."
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 drop of his 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 as those were alive and had their own mind . 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. It was flickering.
His hand trembled.
Something was inside of him, but more importantly, 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. He didn't had much memories that made 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 at him 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....]