Capítulo 11: Shattered Peace
Two weeks passed in silence, broken only by the sounds of nature and the steady, rhythmic pulses of Riven's training. He stood alone, hovering a few meters off the ground in an ancient, crumbling courtyard, surrounded by massive boulders rotating in a slow, controlled orbit around him. His shirtless torso was marked by new muscle and veined arms, the result of days spent pushing his abilities to the edge.
Maurs observed from the shadows, his expression unreadable. He watched as Riven manipulated each boulder with a calculated intensity, and there was something new in Riven's gaze—a spark of cold, unyielding determination.
"Good," Maurs said as he stepped forward, his voice measured and calm. "Your progress is clear. But control is only one side of this power."
Riven opened his eyes and looked at Maurs, his expression hardening. With a flick of his hand, he sent the boulders hurtling toward the ancient trees around the courtyard, splintering branches and gouging deep grooves into their trunks. The echoes faded, leaving only a sense of stillness—and something darker lingering in the air.
"I don't just want control," Riven said, his voice low and steady. "I want to be unstoppable. If anyone comes for me, I'll make sure they regret it."
Maurs approached him, an approving glint in his eyes. "If you're truly ready to accept the cost, then we'll take this further."
Riven held his gaze without flinching. "Show me."
In the royal capital, the scene was far from peaceful. Kazu sat rigid in the dim light of a healer's chamber, his right eye covered with a simple black eyepatch. His face was grim, the bruised skin around the missing eye still raw and red. The wound had left him more than scarred; it had hardened his resolve.
One of his comrades entered the room, bowing briefly. "The king has been informed, sir."
Kazu rose slowly, adjusting his eyepatch. "Tell him that it won't be long. I'll find him."
As the comrade departed, Kazu's hand brushed over the empty socket where his eye once was, and his jaw clenched. He could still see Riven's cold, relentless expression in his mind, the moment of his defeat etched permanently into his memory.
"I'll make you pay," he whispered, his voice low with a barely restrained fury.
Back in the ruins, night had fallen, casting a pale, silvery glow over the crumbling stones. Riven sat by the campfire, his obsidian staff resting beside him, its surface gleaming in the flickering light. His gaze was distant, focused on the shadows dancing beyond the fire's glow.
Maurs settled down across from him, sensing Riven's silence. "Speak, if there's something on your mind," he said gently.
Riven's expression darkened as he stared into the flames. "I feel… different. Like something inside me has shifted." He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. "I'm colder. Emotionless. Like I've lost a part of myself."
Maurs watched him closely, a trace of understanding in his gaze. "Such a transformation is inevitable when one embraces strength to this extent. But beware—it can consume you if you let it."
Riven looked up, his eyes sharp and unyielding. "I don't care. If they come after me, I'll crush them. All of them."
Maurs held his gaze, silent for a long moment. Finally, he nodded, though his expression remained cautious. "Very well. Then it's time to refine your skill further. I'll teach you a technique from my own bloodline. But understand, it will demand control and focus."
Riven's interest sparked visibly. "What kind of technique?"
"One that channels your telekinetic power into heightened force. Instead of moving objects alone, it creates barriers or projectiles of pure energy," Maurs explained. "Useful for offense and defense."
Riven stood, his expression eager but focused, prepared for the challenge. Maurs guided him through the initial steps, instructing him to focus not only on lifting but on shaping the force itself. Riven extended his hand, concentrating until the faint shimmer of energy pulsed around it. Slowly, he shaped it into a blade-like form, then a shield, each flicker of power an extension of his will.
Hours passed, each movement growing more precise, more controlled. The process was taxing, but the results were undeniable. Finally, Riven lowered his arm, breathing heavily but filled with a grim satisfaction.
Maurs gave a slight nod of approval. "Well done. But remember, this power has no limits but the ones you set. Use it wisely."
Riven looked at his own hands, a subtle smile of satisfaction crossing his face. "I'll use it however I need to. If anyone dares to stand in my way… they'll regret it."
Maurs watched him carefully, aware of the path Riven was walking but saying nothing more. As the fire died down, Riven stood, stepping away from the camp and into the open courtyard. The moon cast a cold light over him, illuminating his lean, muscular frame. His gaze shifted to the distant horizon, where shadows and stars stretched endlessly.
For a brief moment, he closed his eyes, allowing the cool night air to settle over him. Then, he lifted his obsidian staff, feeling its familiar weight and the dark power within it. He took a deep breath, letting the calm seep in before he opened his eyes again, filled with resolve.
As Riven stood beneath the moonlight, his staff held firmly in one hand, he could feel the power surging through his veins, a dark and intoxicating force. He was no longer the boy he had been when he first stepped into these ruins. Each night of training, each intense session of pushing his body and mind to the edge, had forged him into something else, something harder and colder.
The city around them lay shrouded in an ancient silence, its ruins cast in shadow under the pale moon. Maurs approached him slowly, his footsteps barely audible against the stones.
"You've taken well to the training, Riven. But I can see something else growing in you," Maurs began, his voice calm but edged with a hint of caution. "Your anger is sharpening. It's... potent, but you must not let it consume you."
Riven looked away, his gaze drifting across the moonlit landscape. "Maybe I don't want to control it," he said, his voice steady but laced with defiance. "Maybe it's better this way. If I don't feel anything for them, it's easier."
Maurs folded his arms, studying him thoughtfully. "Is that what you truly want? To lose all feeling? Anger may fuel you for now, but it's a double-edged blade. Without purpose, it will cut you down as easily as it strikes your enemies."
Riven tensed, feeling an instinctual need to push back, to reject the advice. But something in Maurs's voice made him pause. He forced himself to take a slow, deep breath, to let the tension ease—at least partially. "I don't know. Everything feels... different. Since that night with Geryl." His voice faltered, the name feeling both familiar and strangely foreign.
"Death changes a person," Maurs said solemnly, his eyes darkening with an emotion Riven couldn't quite place. "But it's also a reminder of the consequences we face in pursuit of power."
Silence settled between them, broken only by the occasional crackle of the dying fire behind them. Maurs lifted his hand, gesturing toward the scattered boulders. "Let's focus on refining what you've learned. Emotions can either fuel or hinder telekinetic force, but channeling them without losing control—that's the true mastery."
Riven nodded, letting his grip tighten on the staff. He closed his eyes, feeling the weight of his own heartbeat, the steadiness of his breathing, and the silent power that lay beneath the surface. With a faint shudder, the stones around him began to lift again, trembling as they rose.
"Focus, but don't suppress. Let the anger fuel you, but direct it," Maurs advised, his voice a steadying presence.
Riven took a slow breath, directing his energy into each boulder, guiding them with precision. He shaped them into a spinning barrier around himself, a wall of rock that mirrored his intense concentration. The stones moved with fluidity, almost as if they were an extension of his own body.
But as he sharpened his focus, an image of Kazu's face flashed across his mind—the moment he'd plunged his fingers into his enemy's eye, the furious, helpless scream that had followed. The memory struck him with a rush of raw satisfaction. In that instant, his concentration faltered, and one of the boulders shot forward, smashing into a nearby tree and shattering it with a thunderous crack.
Riven's eyes snapped open, his breath ragged. He felt a pulse of anger, sharp and electric. He clenched his fists, trying to rein it in, but the feeling had already spread, quick as wildfire.
"You let your thoughts waver," Maurs observed calmly. "Anger can give you strength, but it can also lead to mistakes. Balance, Riven."
Riven gritted his teeth, nodding in reluctant agreement. He exhaled slowly, returning to his stance and lifting his staff with renewed focus. Once again, he gathered the stones, feeling the energy coiling within him. This time, he visualized each boulder as an extension of his own will, each stone moving in sync with his intent.
After several minutes, Maurs raised his hand, signaling for him to stop. Riven let the boulders fall, landing with a dull thud in the soft earth around them.
"You're beginning to understand the technique," Maurs said, a note of approval in his voice. "Now we'll move on to the next phase."
"What is it?" Riven asked, breathing heavily but feeling an eagerness rise within him.
Maurs gestured to the staff. "Your connection to this weapon is more than physical. It holds a resonance, one that can amplify your telekinesis if used correctly. I'll teach you to channel your power through it."
Riven studied the staff, feeling the cool, unyielding surface of the obsidian under his fingers. He nodded, adjusting his grip. "I'm ready."
"Good. Visualize the energy moving from your core into the staff," Maurs instructed. "Feel it as an extension of your mind, not just your hand."
Riven closed his eyes, letting his senses sink into the obsidian's cold embrace. He felt a faint hum of energy, a pulse that matched his own heartbeat, and he focused on channeling his strength into it. Gradually, a faint aura began to surround the staff, a shimmering darkness that pulsed in time with his concentration.
"Good," Maurs said, his tone calm and measured. "Now direct that energy forward, into the boulders."
Riven thrust the staff forward, and a wave of invisible force surged out, scattering the boulders in a powerful arc. They flew backward, some smashing against the ancient walls, others crashing into the trees beyond. The impact was stronger, more precise than anything he'd felt before.
A fierce satisfaction surged within him, a sense of power that made his blood sing. He looked to Maurs, his eyes gleaming with determination.
Maurs nodded approvingly. "You're beginning to grasp it. Remember this feeling, this control. Harness it."
Riven exhaled slowly, feeling a calmness settle over him, though the darkness within remained, simmering beneath the surface.
The following night, Riven stood alone beneath the moon, his shirt discarded as he practiced the techniques Maurs had taught him. His lean, muscular form was starkly outlined in the silvery light, his body marked by veins and scars that spoke of both battle and transformation.
He raised his staff, feeling the resonance between himself and the weapon, a dark, silent power that hummed through the air. He concentrated, channeling his will into the staff until it glowed faintly with an otherworldly energy. The boulders around him lifted in response, spinning in a tight orbit.
He focused, shaping the energy into a barrier, a shield of telekinetic force that shimmered around him. It was a test of both precision and endurance, holding the shield steady without letting his emotions interfere.
But as he held the shield, he felt that familiar darkness rise within him—the same urge, the same relentless desire that had driven him in his fight with Kazu. The thought of anyone standing against him, of anyone daring to challenge his power, sent a thrill of satisfaction through him. He could feel the blood pulsing in his veins, the raw hunger for dominance simmering just beneath the surface.
The shield faltered for an instant, but he forced it back, his jaw clenched in concentration. The energy wavered, then steadied, a testament to his growing control.
"Soon," he muttered to himself, his voice low but filled with conviction. "Anyone who stands in my way... I'll crush them. Every last one."
The words echoed in the silence, a vow to the darkness within him.
From a distance, Maurs watched in silence, noting the intensity in Riven's expression, the way his body moved with a newfound confidence. He could see the change in his pupil, the hardening of his will, the dark edge that had taken root. And while he knew that such strength was essential for the path they walked, he also understood the risks that came with it.
As Riven lowered his staff, the boulders dropping to the ground around him, Maurs approached, his gaze steady. "You've made impressive progress. But remember, strength without purpose is a hollow victory. Make sure you know what you're fighting for."
Riven met his gaze, his expression unreadable. "I know what I want. And I won't let anyone stand in my way."
Maurs nodded, though a hint of caution remained in his eyes. "Then let's continue. There's still much for you to learn."
They turned back toward the fire, the ruins casting long shadows in the moonlight. As Riven walked beside Maurs, he felt a strange calm settle over him, a quiet acceptance of the path he had chosen. The darkness within him was no longer something to fear; it was his weapon, his shield, and he would wield it without hesitation.
And as they trained through the night, Riven knew that he was no longer the boy who had once sought peace. He was something else entirely—something stronger, something relentless. And with each step, each lesson, he drew closer to the power he craved.
He glanced up at the moon, feeling its cold light on his skin, and a faint smile crossed his face. Whatever lay ahead, he was ready to face it, and nothing would stand in his way.
As Riven turned away from the moon, it felt like he was leaving behind the last flickers of something he could barely name—a vague sense of innocence, perhaps, or a fragile hope he'd once clung to. The moonlight felt distant now, cold and pale, unable to reach the parts of him that had been shaped by darkness and fire.
The shadows around him seemed to pulse with a deeper warmth, a sense of belonging he had never felt under the sun or moon. He took a step forward, letting the night wrap around him, feeling the weight of his choices settle in his bones. The path ahead was dark, but he felt ready to embrace it fully, no longer tethered by the light that seemed so far away.
The world of light and innocence felt like a distant memory now, fading as he accepted the darker road before him.
REFLEXIONES DE LOS CREADORES 
rsiii
rsiii i have a good feeling about this novel
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