The last remnants of his nightmare clung to Riven's skin like a lingering shadow. His breath evened, his heartbeat settling into its steady, controlled rhythm. The weight of the mausoleum returned—stone, dust, and silence. His generals stood at the edges of the chamber, waiting.
"Good, you're awake," Nyx said, arms crossed, her dark eyes flicking over him. "Are you alright?"
Riven rubbed his neck, the phantom weight of the nightmare still pressing against his skin. The skill had latched onto his subconscious like a leech, pulling forth memories he had buried long ago. Abyssal Nightmare was powerful—far stronger than he had anticipated.
"I'm fine." Riven sighed after a moment. "At least I know now that it works… perhaps a little too well."
