Riven's phone buzzed just as he was halfway through his coffee.
It was Marcus...he sent a text.
Marcus: Jake wants to et up before class. Says Maya has questions.
His stomach sank like he'd swallowed a brick.
Shit.
They'd been expecting this,
But expecting sothing and living through it were two very different beasts.
It had been three days since the Veil mission, and apparently their cover stories weren't holding up anymore....yep, you guessed it...their friends had noticed enough changes to warrant an intervention of sorts.
Riven shoved his Resonance Blade into its carrying case and stuffed it in his backpack.
The damn thing felt heavier than usual, like it was reminding him of all the secrets he was carrying.
When he reached the library steps, he could see Marcus was already inside waiting for him in the main library....so he made his way in.
Marcus was waiting by entrance of the main library, looking uncomfortable in his new tactical boots.
Supposedly "hiking gear." But it looked More like "hey everyone, I'm secretly cosplaying as a soldier."
"How bad is it?" Riven asked.
Marcus grimaced. "Maya made a list."
"A… list?"
"Its Typed. Printed. And then Categorized." Marcus's face was pure doom. "Jake thinks we joined a cult. Maya thinks we're running black ops on weekends."
Riven groaned. "We're screwed."
They walked together to the student center.
Their usual table wasn't the sa today. Instead of laughter and casual banter, Jake and Maya sat like interrogators at a hearing.
And yep. Maya had a folder.
A whole-ass folder.
It looked cute in her petite hands though.
"Okay," she said, voice sharp enough to cut glass. "What's really going on with you two?"
Riven tried, "We told yo—"
"Bullshit." Maya slapped the folder down. "Riven, you've gained ten pounds of muscle in two weeks. Your reflexes are faster, your eyes are brighter. That doesn't happen from kale smoothies and nap ti."
She then turned to Marcus. " and You, You've started wearing military-grade boots,
you flinch at loud noises like you've developed hypervigilance, and yesterday I watched you track a maintenance worker's movent across the cafeteria like you were expecting an attack."
Jake leaned forward, scowling. "And you vanish for nights at a ti with garbage excuses. 'Family therapy at midnight'? Really? What's next, group yoga at a morgue?"
Riven's enhanced senses picked up the pounding of their friends' hearts. the stress pheromones indicating genuine concern rather than idle curiosity.
These weren't people looking for gossip....they were friends who were worried and frustrated by obvious lies.
"Look," Marcus tried, voice careful, "we're just dealing with so personal stuf—"
"Gang," Jake cut in. "You joined a gang, didn't you? That makes sense...the combat gear, the secret etings, physical trainin—"
"We're not in a gang," Riven said firmly.
"Then what?" Maya shot back. "Because whatever it is, it looks either illegal or dangerous. And I'm not letting my friends spiral into so bullshit without answers."
Riven's system flickered at the edge of his vision, feeding off his spike of stress.
He felt Marcus's panic bleed through their bond too.
They were cornered.
"It's complicated," Riven muttered.
"Uncomplicate it," Maya snapped. "Two years we've been friends. We've covered for you, lied to professors, played dumb when you acted weird. But I'm done. Either you tell us the truth, or we're done enabling whatever this is."
Silence fell over the table, it felt heavy and suffocating.
Riven could practically hear the seconds ticking by.
Marcus jumped in, desperate. "Just… give us ti. Don't worry It's not illegal and no one's exploiting us. But it's personal. Family-level personal."
Jake wasn't convinced. "Family drama doesn't explain the combat boots though."
"And it doesn't explain you suddenly acting like you've been through basic training," Maya added. She leaned closer, studying Riven's face. "Your pupils are blown, your breathing's controlled, you keep scanning exits. You're either high or you've got PTSD from sothing."
"I don'—" Riven stopped. Did he? After everything in the Veils… maybe he did have PTSD....well fighting monsters do tend to cause PTSD right??.
"Then what do you have?" Maya pressed on.
Her question hit harder than any monster claw. His friends weren't just curious....they were terrified. And they deserved answers.
But answers would kill them.
Marcus's panic spiked through the bond, frantic and sharp. "One week," he blurted. "Just give us a week to figure out how to explain it without.....without making things worse for everyone."
Jake and Maya exchanged a look. Like so silent communication passed between them.
Finally, Maya said:
"One week huh....that's seven days. If you don't explain, we're going to have to assu you're involved in sothing dangerous and act accordingly." Maya said with a stare into Riven's eyes.
"Act accordingly how?" Riven asked.
Jake's voice was steady. "By talking to people who can help.....like the campus Counselors, your relatives. Maybe the cops if it looks like you're in over your heads."
The threat wasn't cruel...it was protective. And sohow that made it worse.
Riven exhaled slowly. "Fine. One week."
After Jake and Maya finally left for their morning classes, Marcus collapsed against the table. "We are so screwed."
"Maybe not." Riven pulled out the Veil Compass.
The needle twitched southwest, toward Silver Town's industrial district. A new Veil. "We've got a week. That's seven nights to get stronger. Seven chances to level up before this blows up."
Marcus stared at him. "You want to go Veil hunting now? While our best friends are threatening to rat us out?"
"Yes." Riven stood, slinging his pack over his shoulder. "Because if we don't, I'll never get strong enough to bring my family back. And if I fail at that, none of this matters anyway."
Marcus cursed under his breath but grabbed his own gear. "What about classes?"
"Skip them. We've got bigger problems than Professor Logan's attendance policy."
They spent the afternoon digging through satellite maps and city records.
The industrial sector was full of half-dead factories and warehouses. Read complete version only at novel[f]ire
Empty, abandoned....perfect for dinsional rifts to open without imdiate detection. for Veil territory.
Marcus pointed to one warehouse cluster. "There. No caras. Minimal patrols. Easy escape routes."
The compass needle aligned perfectly.
"Can we make it tonight?" Riven asked.
"Tonight." Marcus paused. "But what excuse do we give? Maya's already called out 'family therapy' as BS."
Riven zipped his bag shut. "Doesn't matter. We've got seven days to find a version of the truth they can handle."
As they prepped their gear, that weight settled over Riven again. The Veils were dangerous. But this? This was worse.
As they packed their gear and prepared for another night in an alien dinsion, Riven felt the familiar mixture of excitent and terror that ca with planning Veil missions.
Friends asking the wrong questions could be deadlier than any monster.
Seven days. Seven nights. And a family waiting in the void between dinsions.
Riven tightened his grip on the compass as it pointed southwest, like a clock hand ticking down.
Ti to face monsters again....but this ti it's in the dark and at the table....
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