Rethal wasn't the kind of place people visited. It sat at the edge of a forest most maps didn't bother naming, where the trees grew thick enough to swallow the light if you went too far in. The houses were old, patched together over the years, leaning slightly like they'd given up standing straight. Still, in the mornings, the village felt alive in its own quiet way. Smoke drifted up from chimneys, someone argued over something pointless near the well, and a group of kids ran past like the world outside didn't exist. It was ordinary. Almost too ordinary.
Riven Veyl stood a little apart from all of it.
He wasn't doing anything strange. Just standing there, looking toward the forest like he had nowhere better to be. But there was something off about the way he watched it, like he was waiting for something he couldn't name.
A breeze passed through, cool and brief. It should've felt normal. It didn't.
"…Why does this feel wrong?"
He didn't even realize he'd said it out loud.
Riven frowned, shifting his weight slightly. There was nothing to point at. No sound out of place, no movement that didn't belong. If anything, everything was exactly how it should be. That was the problem.
It felt… familiar.
Not in a comforting way. More like remembering a dream you didn't want to remember.
He rubbed the side of his head, wincing a little. That dull ache again. It had been coming and going since morning, never strong enough to stop him, but never fully leaving either. Like something was stuck there, just out of reach.
"Riven! You planning to stand there all day or what?"
He glanced back. One of the villagers waved at him, half-annoyed, half-amused. Riven gave a small nod—nothing more—and turned back again. He didn't feel like talking.
The forest looked the same as always. Dark. Quiet. Too still.
And yet…
His fingers twitched.
For a second—just a second—the world felt like it slipped.
Not visibly. Nothing dramatic. But something in the air shifted, like a moment got skipped without asking permission.
Riven blinked. "…Did that just—"
No reaction.
The kids were still laughing. The argument near the well hadn't stopped. A dog barked somewhere in the distance.
Everything continued.
He let out a slow breath, but it didn't calm him. If anything, it made it worse.
"Yeah… something's definitely wrong."
This time, he was sure he said it.
And then it happened again—but differently.
Not outside.
Inside.
A faint flicker passed through his vision—not in front of his eyes, but somewhere deeper, like it was being projected into his thoughts.
[Initializing…]
Riven went still.
The words didn't stay long. They barely had time to exist before they broke apart and vanished, like they weren't meant to be seen.
"…Wait."
He took a step back without meaning to. His heartbeat picked up, uneven now.
"That wasn't—"
Real? A thought? A dream?
None of it fit.
A strange coldness spread through him, starting from his chest and working its way outward. His body felt… slightly out of sync. Like he was moving a fraction too late.
Then something shifted.
Not the world.
His mind.
It didn't come back as a memory. Not properly. Just fragments, scattered and incomplete. Darkness. A screen. A voice that didn't belong to anyone standing here. And a feeling—sharp, immediate, undeniable.
This place isn't right.
Riven's breathing slowed, but not by choice.
"…No."
It was a weak protest. He knew it even as he said it.
Because deep down, something had already clicked into place.
He didn't understand it. Couldn't explain it. But he felt it.
He shouldn't be here.
The thought didn't feel new. That was the part that bothered him most.
Somewhere far off, past the treeline, a low sound rolled through the air. Faint. Easy to miss if you weren't paying attention.
A horn.
Riven's head snapped up.
The villagers didn't react. Not a single one of them paused. Whatever that sound was, it didn't reach them the same way.
But to him—
It did.
And for no clear reason at all, his hands started to shake.
Not from fear. Not exactly.
More like recognition.
Like this wasn't the first time he'd heard it.