Chapter 367: That Is Not An Option

The King.He was trying to kill him, perhaps skin him.

Riven's emerald eyes widened. The man's hunting gear gleamed faintly in the sunlight that filtered through the trees. He sat tall and poised on his horse, bow raised, every movement precise, and aimed to kill him in one shot. The same hands that had once rested gently against Riven's hair, now gripping the weapon that sought to end him.

Riven wanted to stop. He wanted to call out, to beg him to see past the beast, to recognise him.But even through the ringing in his ears, he heard the King's voice, proud, cold, and final.

"I'll win this hunt and reclaim my honour."

Riven's body trembled. He did not have the time to think, he held the belief that the King did not know it was him. He held that belief close to his heart because even after everything that had happened, everything the King did to him, and everything Theresa told him, he knew. He knew that the King would not kill him.

At least, he knew that the King did not know.

Riven pushed himself harder, dodging the next bunch of arrows. But they weren't meant to hit him anymore. The King had changed tactics. He was shooting with purpose, driving Riven left, then right, steering him, not hunting him anymore. Riven's chest heaved as the forest thickened. The sound of pursuit grew louder, the hoofbeats closing in.

And then he saw it.

A wall of dense trees, intertwined with thorned vines. Beyond it, a sheer hill, slick and steep, impossible to climb in his weakened state. The forest had turned into a cage.

Riven stopped running.

He stood there, trembling, his chest heaving. The smell of earth and blood filled his senses. The muffled pounding of hooves slowed and then gradually came to a stop behind him. He lowered his head, feeling the weight of exhaustion and despair pressing him down. His vision blurred, whether from tears or fatigue, he couldn't tell.

I don't want to die. But... It feels like I don't have a say in that matter.

When the King dismounted, Riven didn't move. He didn't even flinch when the bowstring creaked.

The King raised his weapon, but his hands… Hesitated. The wolf before him didn't snarl or bare its fangs. It simply looked down, ears drooping, tail still. There was no fight left in it, no defiance, no threat. Just surrender.

Riven exhaled shakily and lowered himself onto the forest floor. The cold soil pressed against his fur. He closed his eyes.

He thought of the moments they shared. The music of the lyre he was gifted played in his mind. This was the last song.

He remembered the warmth of a hand brushing his cheek, the soft look in the King's eyes when he wasn't surrounded by nobles or guards. It was hard to let those things go.

What about me do you like the most?

You have answered that question many times. The way I played the lyre, or the way my ears moved. There were a lot of things about me that you liked. But did you really like me?

No matter what anyone says, I believe that you did. Because I need to believe it for my sake. If I accept that you did not... Then I have no one in this world who will miss me. No one would grieve me, it would be like I did not exist... Though I do not know many things, I do know that many in this world want that.

And I think today, their wish will come true.

So please miss me, I hope that at least you will miss me.

He waited for the arrow.

But it didn't come.

The forest was silent except for the sound of the wind.

And then—

"If you're not going to shoot, I will."

Theresa's voice sliced through the quiet. She had dismounted too, standing not far behind him. Her bow was already raised, her eyes burning with hatred. She could have ended it right then, could have sent Riven to his death and walked away victorious. But she didn't.

She wanted the King to do it.

She wanted him to stain his hands with the blood of the one he loved.

The King's grip on the bow tightened. His jaw locked. Riven lifted his head slightly, their eyes meeting, just for a moment. And in that moment, he saw confusion in the King's face. A shadow of something familiar.

Recognition. Doubt. Guilt.

But the arrow had left the bow, making its way towards the wolf with unmistakable bright green eyes.

The echo of the bowstring snapped through the air, sharp and final. Leon's eyes widened as the arrow flew, faster than thought.

"Riven?"

But it was too late.

The arrow found its mark. It tore through the mist and sank deep into the wolf's body.

Leon stood frozen, his hand still gripping the bow.

With annoyance, Riven snapped. "Why are you showing me this?" he shouted at the voice that was revealing a lot of things to him.

There was no form before him, only that voice.

"I am showing you the reality."

Riven's eyes narrowed, "Reality? No. I don't care about your twisted what-ifs."

The voice laughed, a terrible, hollow laugh that filled the space until Riven's head throbbed.

"What if? WHAT IF?" it mocked, tone rising to a scream that reverberated through him. "It is not a what-if, Riven. This happened. YOU DIED. HE KILLED YOU."

Riven flinched, his teeth gritted. Why couldn't this voice just shut up and leave him alone?

"For once in your life," the voice continued, dark and merciless, "stop being stupid because of love… And leave."

Riven's breath hitched.

"No." He said firmly, "You leave me alone."

"Hah," the voice hissed, almost amused now. "That is not an option."

The air thickened, pressing down on him. A ringing began in his ears, sharp, high-pitched, unbearable.

"What—hey—!"