Chapter 97: Elora

Chapter 97: Chapter 97: Elora

"We are all in the same boat, in a stormy sea, and we owe each other a terrible loyalty." — G. K. Chesterton

The first thing Riven felt when consciousness slowly returned was not pain.

It was warmth.

A soft fire crackled somewhere nearby, its gentle rhythm almost alien after months of nothing but dripping water, distant screeches, and the occasional sound of something tearing another creature apart in the darkness.

Riven’s eyelids twitched.

For several seconds, he didn’t open them.

He simply listened.

Crackle.

A faint hiss.

The quiet shifting of wood beneath someone else’s weight.

A subtle metallic sound followed.

Swish.

Click.

Riven’s fingers twitched.

His body reacted before his mind could catch up.

His hand searched for his sword.

"It’s right beside you."

Riven’s eyes snapped open.

His breathing immediately quickened.

A voice.

A real voice.

Not a phantom.

Not an echo created by his fever.

Someone was speaking to him.

"I wouldn’t try sitting up too quickly, either," the voice continued. "That venom nearly liquefied your ribcage."

Riven slowly turned his head.

The movement sent a dull ache through his left side.

He froze.

A small fire burned in the center of the cave.

The chamber itself was nothing impressive. A low ceiling. Rough basalt walls. Several crude shelves carved into the stone. A pile of dried plants hung from a length of rope near the entrance.

But compared to the abyss outside, it felt almost impossibly peaceful.

Riven looked down.

He was lying on a bed of dried moss beneath a thick, lined wool blanket.

His shirt was gone.

Cleanish white linen wrapped tightly around his left ribs.

His right hand was resting against the blanket.

There was no black lightning.

No burning pain.

No screaming voices.

For the first time in months, his mind was quiet.

Riven stared at the ceiling.

He almost didn’t know what to do with the silence.

Then his eyes moved toward the source of the voice.

A woman sat beside the fire on an overturned wooden crate.

She was carefully running a whetstone along the edge of a sleek steel arming sword.

Swish.

Click.

Again.

Swish.

Click.

The rhythm was steady.

Controlled.

Real.

Her ash brown hair had been pulled back into a loose braid, with several strands hanging around her face. Her clothing was worn and heavily repaired, the leather scratched and stained from years of use.

She looked tired.

Not the temporary exhaustion Riven knew from a long day of fighting.

She looked like someone who had been tired for years.

She set the whetstone aside.

Riven’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Riven slowly exhaled.

He didn’t realize how tense his body had been until then.

The woman noticed.

She stood and walked toward him.

Riven’s muscles immediately tensed.

The reaction was automatic.

The woman stopped.

She didn’t come any closer.

For several seconds, neither of them moved.

Then she raised an eyebrow.

"You’re safe."

Riven’s eyes remained fixed on her.

He didn’t answer.

She seemed to understand.

"Right."

She stepped back.

"I’ll stay over here."

Something about that made Riven pause.

Most people didn’t give him space when he tensed.

They demanded obedience.

Or they tried to dominate him.

She had simply stepped away.

Riven slowly relaxed his shoulders.

The woman picked up a wooden mug from beside the fire.

"You’ve been unconscious for four days."

She walked over again, this time more slowly.

"Can you drink?"

Riven hesitated.

Then he nodded.

She crouched beside him and handed him the mug.

Their fingers briefly touched.

Warm.

Human.

Riven almost pulled his hand away.

Instead, he took the mug.

The liquid inside was warm and bitter, carrying the sharp taste of unfamiliar subterranean herbs.

He took a cautious sip.

His throat burned.

He swallowed anyway.

"Slowly," the woman said. "Your stomach hasn’t had much to work with."

Riven took another drink.

Then another.

He lowered the mug.

"How long?"

"Four days."

His eyes lowered.

Four days.

He had lost four days.

But for some reason, the thought didn’t frighten him as much as it should have.

Maybe because he had finally slept.

Really slept.

Not twenty minutes in a rock crevice with one hand wrapped around his sword.

Not unconsciousness caused by exhaustion.

Actual sleep.

Riven looked at the woman.

"Who are you?"

She gave him a small smile.

"Elora."

Riven waited.

Nothing else.

He frowned slightly.

"That’s it?"

A quiet laugh escaped her.

"Usually people introduce themselves after asking for someone else’s name."

Riven stared at her.

The concept seemed strangely unfamiliar.

Then he realized what she meant.

"My name is Riven."

"I know."

He stiffened.

Her expression immediately softened.

"You said it while you were delirious."

Riven looked away.

He didn’t like the idea of having spoken while unconscious.

Elora sat down beside the fire again.

"And before you ask, yes. I’m real."

Riven’s eyes slowly returned to her.

"You heard me?"

"I heard you talking."

A pause.

"Mostly nonsense."

Elora returned her attention to the fire.

For several moments, neither spoke.

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable.

That surprised Riven.

He had spent months trapped in silence.

But this was different.

This silence had another person in it.

Someone breathing.

Someone alive.

Someone who could answer when he spoke.

Eventually, Riven looked toward her.

"How did you survive?"

Elora’s expression changed.

A faint shadow passed over her face.

"Down here?"

Riven nodded.

"Three years."

His eyes sharpened.

"Three?"

She nodded.

"My master and I entered a dungeon three years ago."

Riven waited.

"The Sword Saint."

Riven’s eyes widened slightly.

He had heard the title.

Everyone had.

The Sword Saint was considered one of the greatest swordsmen alive.

Or had been.

"He disappeared during a survey of an uncharted dungeon."

Elora’s fingers tightened around the hilt of her sword.

"The Guild declared him dead."

"And you didn’t."

"No."

She stared into the flames.

"I followed his trail."

Riven understood that immediately.

"You found the rift."

"Eventually."

She gave a tired smile.

"Then I made the mistake of following it."

Riven looked around the cave.

"And ended up here."

"Exactly."

She leaned back against the stone wall.

"I spent the first year searching for my master."

Her eyes lowered.

"The second year learning how to survive."

"And the third?"

Elora was quiet for several seconds.

"Waiting."

Riven understood that word better than most.

Waiting was dangerous.

Waiting gave the mind too much room to wander.

"You never found him?"

"No."

Elora’s answer was quiet.

Riven looked down.

"I’m sorry."

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

Elora looked at him.

For a moment, surprise crossed her face.

Then she smiled.

"Thank you."

Riven nodded.

He took another drink.

The warmth spread through his chest.

It was strange.

Five months ago, he would have analyzed Elora the moment he saw her.

Strength.

Threat level.

Weaknesses.

Escape routes.

Potential uses.

Now he was simply sitting in a cave, drinking tea and listening to another person’s story.

He wasn’t sure when that had become enough.

Elora looked toward him.

"So."

Riven raised an eyebrow.

"How did you end up here?"

He looked into the fire.

The memory returned in fragments.

The dungeon entrance.

The obsidian platform.

The runes.

The rift.

The fall.

Then the darkness.

"I was looking for a challenge."

Elora stared at him.

Riven looked back.

She blinked.

Then she laughed.

It wasn’t loud.

But it was genuine.

"You’re a kid."

"I know."

"Then you should know that calling falling into an uncharted abyss a ’challenge’ is insane."

Riven considered that.

"Fair."

Elora laughed again.

Riven felt something unfamiliar tug at the corner of his mouth.

Almost a smile.

Almost.

Elora noticed anyway.

She didn’t comment on it.

Instead, she reached over and gave his shoulder a gentle pat.

"Whatever brought you here, you’re alive."

Riven looked down at his bandaged ribs.

Then at the sword resting beside him.

Then at the fire.

He looked at Elora.

For months, the only thing he had wanted was to survive.

But sitting there, listening to another human voice in the darkness, he realized something.

Survival didn’t have to mean being alone.

Elora stood.

"Get some more sleep."

Riven looked up.

"What about you?"

"I’ll keep watch."

"You’ve been doing that for three years."

"Yeah."

She picked up her sword.

"I’m pretty good at it."

Riven stared at her for a moment.

Then he slowly lay back down.

The blanket was warm.

The fire crackled softly.

Elora sat near the entrance, her sword resting across her knees as she watched the darkness outside.

Riven closed his eyes.

For the first time in five months, he didn’t need to keep one hand on his sword.

He didn’t need to listen for footsteps.

He didn’t need to count every breath.

Someone else was watching.

And for the first time since entering the abyss, Riven allowed himself to sleep.