Shattered Sanity

(Meanwhile, Riven’s POV)

The moment Riven heard the name Mary being spoken through the voice amplification Array, his eyes immediately shifted towards the Drafting Grounds as his heart skipped a beat.

’Surely not...’

He thought, as out of only four hundred students being admitted into the Imperial Academy this year, what were the chances that a slave from Ashfang Village had somehow made it here at exactly the same time as him?

And yet, the moment the girl finally stood from her seat, Riven felt his carefully maintained composure starting to slip through his fingers.

His breathing stopped.

His heart fluttered wildly.

For several seconds, Riven simply stared, as the hundreds of unfamiliar faces surrounding her disappeared from his attention while his eyes remained fixed solely upon the girl beginning to walk towards him.

’It’s her.’

There was no doubt whatsoever.

’That’s Mary.’

Her face had matured slightly, her hair had grown longer and an Imperial military uniform now covered the body he remembered dressed in considerably simpler clothing, but none of those differences mattered.

Riven possessed a memory that never forgot.

He remembered every feature of her face, every expression she had made and every little mannerism she possessed with a clarity that ordinary people could never understand.

’My Mary...’

The thought escaped somewhere inside him before Riven could stop it, as something warm and painfully familiar spread throughout his chest.

She was alive.

After everything that had happened since Garron dragged him away, after all the nights where he had wondered what became of the others, Mary was standing barely a hundred meters away.

Alive, healthy, and somehow, impossibly, coming directly towards him.

Riven almost smiled.

His lips actually began moving before he caught himself, as he quickly inhaled several deep breaths and forced the emotion threatening to overwhelm him back beneath the surface.

’You fool! Control yourself!’

He thought, as his expression stiffened.

Because the momentary happiness disappeared almost as quickly as it had arrived when Riven realized something terrifying.

Mary knew him.....

The real him....

Not Riven Dawnriver, but rather Riven Veyr.

She knew the slave from Ashfang Village who had travelled alongside her, eaten beside her, trained beside her and trusted her more than almost anyone else throughout that miserable period of his life.

And if Riven greeted her with even a fraction of that familiarity before fellow students and dozens of House seniors, he could potentially destroy everything he had suffered to build over the past couple of years or so.

For his current persona, Riven Dawnriver had never lived in Ashfang Village.

Nor had Riven Dawnriver ever been a slave.

As far as everyone surrounding him was concerned, the second overall selection of this year’s House Draft was the biological son of Duke Drew Dawnriver, who was raised away from the Empire under unusual circumstances before eventually returning to his rightful family.

That identity was not merely a convenient lie anymore.

It was his life.... His opportunity at a better future, and more importantly, the only goal he possessed.

’I am sorry Mary, but I cannot acknowledge your now....

I am Riven Dawnriver now, and I am not the same kid you may remember.’

Riven thought, as he understood fully well that one crack in his expression now could ruin it all.

One accidental mention of her name.

One familiar greeting exchanged between the heir of House Dawnriver and a military recruit he supposedly had never encountered before.

That was all someone observant needed to begin asking questions.

And once those questions began, Riven had no idea where they would end.

’I can’t look at you...’

Riven decided, as his eyes immediately shifted away from Mary.

"Young Lord Dawnriver, were you listening?"

A Second Year senior sitting beside him suddenly asked, as Riven realized that the boy had apparently been speaking for several seconds.

"My apologies."

Riven replied, immediately restoring the calm expression expected from him.

"I was briefly distracted by the announcement. What were you saying?"

The senior appeared completely unsuspecting.

"I was asking whether you’ve decided which academic electives you’re interested in taking. Registration doesn’t open until tomorrow, but some professors deliberately restrict their class sizes."

"Then I suppose I’ll have to review the available professors before making that decision."

Riven replied smoothly, as though nothing unusual had happened whatsoever.

All the while, Mary continued walking closer.

Riven could hear her footsteps approaching the Argent pavilion.

Step. Step. Step.

’No. You must not....’

Riven reminded himself, as although every instinct inside him demanded that he look, that he met her eyes and confirmed from her expression that she remembered him too, he hardened his resolve and did not.

Instead, he leaned slightly towards the senior beside him.

"Although, considering how heavily House Points depend upon academic performance, I assume Argent maintains records regarding which electives historically provide the greatest opportunities?"

"Naturally."

The senior replied enthusiastically.

"We’ve compiled records from the previous eleven years. I’ll show them to you once we return to the House."

"I would appreciate that."

Riven said, as he pretended to be engrossed in the conversation while Mary slowly walked closer.

’She’s almost beside me...’

Riven thought, as he could feel it without looking.

Then came the applause welcoming another Argent selection, followed by several seniors shifting around him as Mary finally entered beneath the enormous silver banners.

Riven’s heartbeat hammered against his chest.

’Don’t look.’

He continued speaking.

Another early-round recruit beside him joined the conversation, introducing himself and asking Riven something regarding the appraisal board, giving Riven another convenient excuse to keep his attention pointed elsewhere.

Riven answered him, as he continued to make conversation in his usual calm, polite and noble tone, yet in reality he understood almost nothing about what he was saying anymore, because every fragment of his attention remained painfully aware of the girl standing somewhere behind him.

Then Mary walked past.

Riven caught the faintest glimpse of her from the corner of his eye.

That nearly broke him.

For one terrible second, Ashfang returned.

He remembered saving her and Stacy

He remembered sharing food on their journey towards the Empire.

He remembered her smile.

He remembered trusting that if he fell asleep beside Mary, he would still possess everything he owned when he awakened.

And now she was close enough that Riven could have reached out and touched her.

His fingers tightened beneath the chair.

’Don’t.’

He wanted to turn around.

’Don’t.’

He wanted to say her name.

’Don’t.’

He wanted, more than anything, to stop pretending that the girl walking past him meant absolutely nothing.

But Riven Dawnriver did not know Mary.

So Riven continued talking.

He never turned his head, never acknowledged her footsteps, never allowed his expression to change.

And when Mary inevitably slowed slightly while passing him, almost as though waiting for some sign of recognition, Riven deliberately shifted his attention towards the senior opposite him and continued their conversation without missing a beat.

From the outside, it was flawless.

The heir of House Dawnriver had shown no interest in a random military recruit whose name meant absolutely nothing to him.

But beneath the chair, Riven’s fingernails were digging so deeply into his palms that they nearly drew blood.

Because in his entire life so far, this was easily the most cruel and challenging thing he had done, as he let his mind prevail over his heart.