Shattered mask

As Riven and Mr. Nobody walked through the City of Silence, the atmosphere around them was quiet—too quiet, save for the occasional echo of footsteps against stone. The silence, thick and oppressive, pressed down like an invisible weight. Finally, Mr. Nobody broke it.

"Why did I run away from the Order?"

Riven looked up slowly, eyes shadowed beneath his mask. His voice came out low and steady, the weight of memory lacing every word.

"You ever wake up and forget who you are? Not because of amnesia or magic... no, something worse. You look in the mirror and all you see is a uniform, a title, a purpose someone else handed you. I didn't run away because I was scared. I ran because staying meant dying slowly... day by day, piece by piece. They trained us to follow, to kill, to obey. But they never taught us how to feel. Or maybe they did, and called it weakness."

He straightened slightly, the artificial light above catching the worn edges of his armor.

"I was tired of worshiping silence. Tired of being a weapon that smiled. The Order doesn't raise protectors—it builds cages and calls them sanctuaries. So yeah... I ran. Not because I wanted freedom, but because I couldn't stand pretending their chains were wings any longer."

Mr. Nobody responded quietly, his voice almost drowned in the surrounding stillness.

"I see."

Riven snapped, his composure cracking.

"I see? That's all you have to say? I see? Nothing else? That's it?"

Nobody shrugged. "What do you want me to say?"

Riven hissed in frustration, jaw clenched. He turned away, letting the silence swallow his fury.

They walked in silence for a while, drawing closer to the Firstborn residential area. The worn stone beneath their boots gave way to a narrower path as Mr. Nobody suddenly sighed and spoke again.

"I know this might sound rude, but... you reek."

Riven glared at him with a burning expression. The rage in his eyes could've boiled stone.

In his mind, he growled, To hell with this guy.

Eventually, they arrived at the place Riven was supposed to stay. Along the way, they passed other Firstborn, none of whom knew who Riven truly was. Their eyes glanced his way, curiosity unspoken but palpable. Still, none approached.

The residence itself was strange—a door that seemed to lead even further underground. It made no sense to Riven. We're already below the surface, and now I have to go deeper? But as long as it meant peace and solitude, he'd take it.

Mr. Nobody pointed lazily at the door, holding something in his hand.

"Take this. That goes in the thing... the thing with the thing. You know, the thing on the thing that opens the thing. You know that thing."

Riven blinked, confused. "Huh? You mean... the keyhole?"

Nobody nodded with a casual grin. "Yes! That thing."

Riven stared at him a moment longer, then sighed.

At this point, I don't care.

He walked to the door and unlocked it. Inside, stairs spiraled downward. It was a bunker—if you could even call it that. Not particularly spacious, old, and dusty, but Riven didn't mind. He found the bed, tossed himself onto it, and closed his eyes.

His body was sore. His mind, worse.

He needed this rest.

Time passed—whether hours or longer, he didn't know—but eventually, Riven stirred awake. The quiet still wrapped the room like a blanket. And then a memory resurfaced, clear and annoyingly vivid.

"You kinda reek."

Riven clenched his jaw. He was still angry, but it wasn't a lie. He did need to bathe.

So he decided to fetch water. Unlike the surface, things down here weren't as accessible. Water had to be found the old way.

After a bit of searching, he discovered an old well. As he approached, reaching for the rope, he paused.

He felt it again.

That subtle presence—like eyes watching from somewhere just out of sight. At first, he thought it was Mr. Nobody, but then he remembered: Nobody said he was going to see the doctor before Riven fell asleep. So it couldn't be him.

Still, Riven didn't care. Not right now.

Whoever or whatever was watching him would have to wait. All he wanted was to take his bath in peace.

He filled the bucket, turned around, and left—completely unaware of the silhouette lingering at the edge of the shadows behind him.