Riven shivered, drawing her knees closer to her chest as she pressed herself against the  unforgiving stone wall. Days here had a way of blurring together; one cold, hungry hour stretching into the next without end. This cell had been her whole world for years now, and even with the small window, it was too small. Its walls felt like an extension of her own body… confining, constricting, a reminder of everything that had gone so horribly wrong.

In another life, she had been Shin Lee, an everyday worker enjoying her favorite novel The Silver Throne from the comfort of her own bedroom. She had devoured the pages, losing herself in every twist of the plot, in the gripping saga of Calia Voss’s quest to reclaim her  empire. She had rooted for Calia, feeling the thrill of her victories and the sting of her betrayals as if they were her own. She had never expected to find herself here, thrust into the role of Riven Marlowe; a distant relation to Calia’s uncle. A character so minor that her existence was barely a footnote in the story.

But Shin didn't care. Being Riven, being unimportant, allowed to watch the story unfold before her very eyes. She snuck away to ask the meeting points, showed up to every major story beat. She couldn't remember how she got here, but it hardly mattered if it was more than a dream. Being a minor character meant enjoying every moment unbothered.

But in this world, Riven Marlowe’s bloodline had meant something. Enough to condemn her as a traitor, as a threat. It hadn’t mattered that Riven hadn't tried to interfere, that she’d done her best to stay unnoticed. Her mere presence had been enough to mark her for life, a quiet figure doomed to a dark, slow demise. There was no room for her here in Calia’s new empire.

The cold gnawed at her, leaving her mind sluggish and hollow. Some days, Shin barely had the strength to drag herself to the small basin to drink the tepid water that barely sustained her. She wasn’t sure if her jailers even remembered she was down here. The silence that stretched between their visits, between the faint sounds of footsteps or murmured voices outside, had grown so vast that she had started to feel like a ghost, already forgotten by the living.

More and more, her mind wandered, drifting between memories of her old life and the books she had loved. Whispers of the Eternal Spring crept into her thoughts, its warmth and gentleness a balm against the bitter cold of her cell. In that other world, where laughter rang through enchanted forests and love bloomed amid ancient mysteries, life unfolded softly. It was the opposite of The Silver Throne, a story of life and love.

Shin leaned her head back, letting it rest against the rough stone wall, its unforgiving hardness the only solid sensation left to her dwindling body. How long had it been since they had last brought her any food? A day? A week? 

Did it matter?

Each breath felt labored, as if her body were choosing whether to continue or to simply stop. Shin looked up to the sliver of sky, its light fading as night crept over the land. It was a quiet, bittersweet reminder of what she could never touch, of the world moving on without her. She could feel her pulse slowing, her heartbeat a weak thrum in her chest. 

‘Soon.’ Shin thought to herself. She didn't fear death, not like she once had. When she had been thrown down here, she screamed, cried, prayed to wake up back in the real world. Now, she understood. 

There was no more Shin Lee. Only Riven, and Riven did not survive the story.

Just then, a light streaked across the sky. A shooting star, trailing a thin, luminous line of silver against the deepening dusk. Shin’s breath hitched, her chest tightening with a faint, desperate hope. She closed her eyes, feeling foolish and vulnerable, like a child who still believed in wishes.

‘I wish,’ Shin thought to herself, her throat too dry to even think of speaking her wish. Would the gods of this world ignore her simply because she didn’t have the strength to speak? It was a cruel possibility that she didn’t want to consider. ‘I wish I was anywhere but here.’

‘I will give up being Shin Lee for a place where I can be free.’

The words echoed in her mind, and Shin closed her eyes as the last echoes of the star faded. She knew the gods of Vassoria well; not because she had paid attention to any of her lessons, but from Calia’s regard of them. Liora, the Goddess of Light, and her twin, Noctyra, the Goddess of Shadow, both distant figures who loomed over this land, as cold and unyielding as the stone that now entombed her.

It had been Noctyra that Calia turned too in her most desperate moment and Shin had been so desperate to see it herself she risked discovery. Calia, alone beneath a crescent moon, silhouetted against the obsidian night. The wind stirred her cloak as if it were alive, writhing with the dark power she was about to invoke. Shin had hoped the goddess herself would appear, but no such thing happened. She even had to bribe the head maid not to tell her mother she had snuck out in the middle of the night. 

As the echoes of those memories faded, Shin opened her eyes, glancing at the night sky, dimly visible through the slit in her cell. Calia’s story had felt like her story once, one she admired, feared, and studied. Now, as she sat starving and alone in the dank shadows, she understood she had failed to write her story and now it was too late.

The pain in her stomach grew, and her fingers pressed harder into her sides, as if clutching her own body could somehow stave off the ache. Shin finally closed her eyes, wishing it could just be over and done with.

“Riven!”

She could feel her breathing slowing down, the pain almost a distant memory. Who could possibly be calling her name? Who even knew she existed anymore?

“Riven!” 

It was louder this time, more insistent. Shin tried to move her head, but that was far too difficult for her to do now. It wouldn’t be much longer.

“Riven Marlowe!”

Suddenly, Shin found the strength to open her eyes, and the darkness of her cell gave way to an almost blinding light, as though the sun itself had filled the room. Gone were the damp, oppressive walls and the cold that clung to her bones. Instead, she felt warmth on her skin, a warmth she had nearly forgotten. Her vision sharpened, revealing a high-ceilinged room draped in silks and tapestries, filled with murmuring voices. 

She knew this place. 

It was the grand hall of House Marlowe, its ornately carved pillars and gleaming floors unmistakable. Her heart raced, and she clenched her fists, feeling strength in her fingers. Shin glanced down at her hand, no longer gaunt from malnourishment, with tears in her eyes. Her wish had worked.

She was no longer Shin Lee, but once again Riven Marlowe.

And she was free.