Ashtoria slowly opened her eyes. Pale moonlight filtered through the trees, falling across the face of the man who was holding her tightly. The warmth felt unreal, almost like a dream.

For a moment, she remained still. Her heart lingered in that rare sense of safety, a peace she had not known in so long. But when her thoughts cleared, the realization struck her.

Riven.

She looked up, and her eyes widened.

Blood.

His mouth was smeared with red. Thick liquid ran from his nose, and even from the corners of his eyes, thin crimson lines traced down his face. His body hung limp, yet his arms still clung around her as if refusing to let go, even while on the verge of death.

Her gaze shifted to the surroundings. At once she saw the destruction she had caused. Trees lay fallen, the ground split open, rocks shattered into fragments. And she knew the source. Herself.

It always happened when she slept. Her power flowed out without control, spilling from her nightmares. And anyone nearby would be crushed. That was why every night she slipped away, leaving once she was sure both of them had fallen asleep, then returning at dawn as if nothing had happened.

Ashtoria could not allow herself to sleep only to wake and find the siblings’ bodies destroyed by her power. She still wanted to remain near them, at least for now.

Someone like her should have been able to endure a full week without sleep. But the poison… the poison still festering inside her forced her body to rest. It would not kill her, but each time her body tried to neutralize it, her strength drained away until she collapsed in exhaustion. Sleep was no longer a choice. It was a necessity.

And every time she slept, the nightmares returned.

Voices cursing her. Faces twisted in disgust. People calling her a monster. They tormented her without end. Each time she destroyed their shadows, more appeared, crueler and more merciless than before. The chain never broke.

In those dreams she wanted to destroy everything. The world. Herself. Anything—if only the pain would stop.

But tonight, something was different.

Amid the hateful cries that called her a monster, there was another voice.

“Riven!”

It was strange, yet familiar. Not a cry of hatred, but a call filled with worry. Louder and closer it came, until it pierced the walls of the dream that bound her.

And then came the warmth.

An embrace. A gentle touch brushing her hair. A calm voice whispering at her ear:

“Shhh… it’s over… I’m here… I promise… you’re not alone…”

The chain shattered. The shadows of her nightmares vanished. All the torment dissolved, replaced by comfort so foreign, so sweet. She wanted to stay there forever, to remain in that embrace, to let the world fade away.

But when she opened her eyes, reality met her.

The man was truly there, not a dream. Riven. He was the one who had pierced through the darkness, soothed her, held her.

Her heart trembled. In that instant, a decision formed without hesitation: she would not leave again. She would not abandon him and walk away alone. She wanted to remain by his side and take him with her.

But…

Riven.

He was gravely wounded while holding her. With every passing second his breaths grew shallower. She could feel the weak beat in his chest, could see how his body struggled against the crushing force that should have belonged only to her.

There was no doubt. Riven was hurt because of her.

Ashtoria’s pupils quivered. Her throat locked. The weight of guilt slammed into her chest so hard it nearly broke her. She had to act quickly, or the man would die before sunrise.

.

.

.

Pain stabbed from his feet to his skull. Riven tried to move a finger, then his eyelids, as if his body resisted waking from a sleep too heavy. The last hazy memory clinging to him was the warmth of the embrace he had given her before everything went dark.

At last his heavy eyes cracked open, and the first thing that greeted him was the familiar scent of roses. His vision blurred, then slowly sharpened. He found himself lying on a soft bed, far more comfortable than the cold, hard ground he was used to.

And there, right beside him, a woman lay holding him tightly. Her long red hair spilled messily across the pillow, some strands brushing his face. Her breathing was steady, warm against his skin. Her face so close, so strangely comforting to see.

Riven froze. His heart pounded, whether from the beauty before him or from the sharp pain stabbing through his body, he could not tell. And while he was still stunned, Ashtoria’s eyelids trembled… and opened.

Those red eyes met his.

Riven went still. Only the pain in his chest reminded him he was alive.

For several seconds Ashtoria said nothing, only gazing at him intently. Her eyes were sharp, yet held something else beneath—relief mixed with unease.

At last her quiet voice broke the silence, soft but firm. “How do you feel now?”

Riven drew a deep breath as if his lungs were on fire. His voice came out hoarse. “I think… I might be dying.”

Ashtoria’s lips tightened. Her stare sharpened, but Riven let out a faint chuckle. The sound immediately drove knives through his chest, forcing him to wince in pain.

“Idiot…” Ashtoria whispered, her tone barely more than a growl. She turned her head as though searching for words. So many pressed against her tongue—guilt, regret, the simple urge to say sorry. But her lips refused to move.

‘Normal people would apologize, wouldn’t they? I should…’ she thought. Yet before the word could escape her, Riven spoke again.

“…Where am I?” He tried lifting his head, only to fall back against the pillow. His breath came ragged, broken. “Melly… where’s Melly? Is she safe? What about my sword… Riftmaker… and the carriage?”

His eyes darted around, frantic but weak, searching for his sister. He found nothing familiar, only wooden walls and the faint glow of an lantern burning in the corner of the room.

Ashtoria stayed silent. For a moment the only sound was Riven’s heartbeat in her ears.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep