Riven didn't understand one thing... how had he not noticed him coming... and how had he managed to place the blade against his neck without him realizing... it didn't make sense to him.
The voice behind him spoke in a calm tone.
"Get up. I'm taking you in."
Everything he had done... the running... the calling of abominations to do his bidding... all of it had been for nothing.
He stood up from the almost rotten chair and turned to look the man who had caught him directly in the eyes. The man had blown hair and blown eyes and wasn't too tall... about six feet two. He was wearing a dark, fitted tunic lined with intricate patterns, a leather belt strapped across his waist, and armored boots that rose to his knees, each piece sharp and elegant like a blade.
The Veiled gestured with a tilt of his head.
"Move."
Riven stared at him for a moment, his voice steady, almost too calm.
"Why don't you just let me go..."
The Veiled gave him a confused look, like he was trying to figure out if Riven was joking.
"Not possible, buddy."
Riven's hands clenched slightly at his sides, fury burning beneath his calm expression.
"Why... why can't you just let me go and say you couldn't catch me or something..."
The Veiled tapped his forehead lightly, the gesture almost casual, and replied in a low, chill voice.
"No. I can't do that. You killed three of our men. Yes, they were just Firstborn... but every life has a value... and I can't let you go."
Riven swallowed hard. He understood. He understood why the Veiled couldn't let him go... because every life mattered. Be it commoners or nobles... none of it made a difference in the eyes of those who fought to protect them.
The Veiled's tone remained calm, almost fatherly.
"Time to go, kid."
Riven knew he had to find a way to run... and fast. He stood no chance against a Veiled... and if this one met up with his comrades, there would be no escaping.
When Riven stepped out of the cathedral doors, he stopped cold.
Standing by the side of the wall was a man who looked like a legendary warrior of old. His armor... pounded and shaped to fit him like a wall of bronze... weighed heavily on his body but still shone clean, polished from countless battles. A wide red sash, thick as his arm, was draped around his waist, flapping gently against his armored legs as he moved. His shield was monstrous, almost as tall as he was, round and battered, bearing the emblem of a broken sun at its center.
Under the heavy helmet, only the man's eyes were visible... cold, smoldering with the kind of anger that came not from hate... but from a life built on duty. The ridge running along the top of his helmet gave him the look of a Spartan king... proud and immovable.
In that instant, Riven knew.
He couldn't run.
This man was a Veiled... and not just any Veiled. He looked like the kind who wouldn't fall for tricks... who wouldn't give chase... because he wouldn't have to.
The mountain of a man moved forward with heavy, measured steps. He glanced at the Veiled behind Riven, then shifted his gaze lazily back to him, eyes filled with mild interest... and maybe a hint of disappointment.
"So this is the one that's been causing Nira so much trouble..." he said, voice deep and smooth, almost amused. "And he's just a Firstborn... think about it. If he was just a little more powerful... ahhh... he would have been a real pain in the ass to catch."
The first Veiled led, his steps steady, almost lazy. The armored giant followed a few paces behind, shield resting against his back with a casual confidence that made Riven's stomach knot.
And Riven... he walked between them.
The broken streets stretched ahead, cracked and littered with rubble. Buildings leaned against each other like wounded men.
Wind slipped through the gaps, carrying dust and the faint, bitter scent of something long abandoned.
Everywhere he looked, there was nothing living.
Just ruins.
Old stone walls... shattered windows... rusted signs hanging by a thread.
His boots crunched quietly over debris. Pieces of fallen ceilings. Splinters of doors that would never open again.
He kept walking.
There was no point in looking for an opening to run.
Even if he did, even if he somehow broke into a sprint, he knew the mountain behind him would cross the distance in a few strides... and the other one would have his blade at Riven's throat before he even made it to the corner.
So he walked.
The sky above looked pale, it was in the night only the moonlight shined. No birds. No clouds. Just that endless, heavy light pressing down on the ruins, making them look even more dead.
Now and then he caught the sway of something in the corner of his eye... but it was only a torn curtain... or a broken sign creaking in the wind.
Still, he couldn't help but glance sideways sometimes... half-expecting something to crawl out of the wreckage.
Nothing did.
Only the ruins... and the quiet sound of their boots scraping through the dust.
Finally they reached it.
What remained of the garden where the Reaper and the Veiled had clashed.
It was a graveyard now.
The flowers that had once grown wild and thick were gone.. ripped from the soil like they had been torn apart by claws. Their petals were shredded into confetti.. their stems snapped and bleeding green into the dirt.
The ground itself was ruined.
Cratered.
Huge holes scarred the earth like it had been bombarded by falling stars. Rocks were split down the middle. Great gouges clawed deep into the stone pathways. The shattered remains of once-beautiful archways leaned at drunken angles.. barely standing.. like they were seconds from collapsing under the weight of their own wounds.
The air smelled of ash and crushed leaves. A sharpness that clung to the back of Riven's throat and made him want to spit.
It was silent