Riven lay spread-eagle in the crimson grass, right arm draped over his eyes to block the merciless sun that hung directly overhead. He hadn't even bothered to check for monsters before collapsing onto the ground.

  A dull pressure built behind his eye sockets, his violet irises burning with a pain that lingered from overextending his Spatial Eyes.

  Next to him, Aron and Lya were similarly prostrate, their chests rising and falling as they caught their breath in silence.

  We really dodged death this time.

  The memory of the elite monster's armored golden sac flashed through his mind—the vital organ protected by bony plates with only the tiniest opening exposed. The sheer improbability of their escape struck him suddenly, and something broke inside him.

  A single chuckle escaped his lips, then another. Within seconds, he was laughing—a series of nervous, uncontrolled bursts that grew louder with each breath, shattering the silence around them.

  Lya pushed herself up on one elbow, her brow furrowed in confusion. "What's so funny?"

  Riven sat up, keeping his hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. "We came that close to dying back there." He held up his other hand, thumb and forefinger almost touching. "This close. Again."

  He shook his head, the laughter fading to a grim smile. "I feel like I've been saying that too often lately."

  He took a deep breath, then pushed himself to his feet with a grunt of effort. Every muscle in his body protested the movement, but he forced himself upright anyway. "We should at least get into some shade if we don't want to cook in this sun."

  Aron rose beside him, his massive frame casting a long shadow across the crimson grass. His golden eyes narrowed slightly in confusion. "Cook in the sun?"

  Riven raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?"

  "We cannot cook in the sun," Aron replied with absolute seriousness, his brow furrowed as if concerned for Riven's understanding of basic physics.

  Is he stupid or something? Riven thought. It's just an expression.

  Lya clapped her hands together, a familiar bright smile spreading across her face despite their exhaustion. "Come on, we can rest under one of the corrupted hands." Her smile faltered slightly. "We just need to be careful of the... black viscous liquid."

  They didn't have to walk far. The Plain of Corrupted Hands was aptly named—massive black structures resembling human hands erupted from the ground at irregular intervals, fingers splayed toward the sky as if reaching for something beyond their grasp. Some were small, barely taller than Aron; others towered dozens of meters high, casting long shadows across the crimson landscape.

  They settled beneath the nearest one, a medium-sized hand that provided a decent patch of shade. The cool darkness was an immediate relief after the sun. They resumed their earlier positions, but with backs against the cold black stone of the hand's base.

  Riven closed his eyes, allowing himself to sink into the relative comfort of their temporary shelter. His body felt empty, hollowed out from the inside. He had consumed so much Koras earlier, draining his core to dangerous levels during their escape.

  But as they had walked, he'd noticed something.

  My Koras core seems to be refilling naturally over time. It's still far from full, but with a quiet day of rest, I should be back to normal.

  The realization was comforting. At least he wasn't permanently damaged by overextending his power.

  The three of them sat in companionable silence for a while, the only sounds their gradually steadying breaths and the occasional whisper of wind through the crimson grass.

  Eventually, Lya turned her head toward Aron, who sat on the other side of Riven. "Aron, you have a Fragment. But you haven't told us about it—what's your power exactly?" She tilted her head slightly. "Since we're a team now, it's better if we know each other better, right?"

  Team. The word tasted strange and bitter in Riven's mouth. An unfamiliar concept that implied trust, cooperation, shared goals—things he'd had little experience with.

  Aron's expression softened, a gentleness that seemed at odds with his imposing stature. "Yes, you're right." He shifted slightly, adjusting his position against the stone. "Since my Fragment comes from the Sacred Sun Legacy, its power relates to the sun. I can accumulate solar pressure in my body and manipulate it, providing several effects and strengthening me."

  Riven's eyes widened. His mouth opened slightly.

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  Well, if that's not a flashy power, I don't know what is.

  Sacred Sun Heritage? Power of the sun? Goldilocks hit the jackpot with his Fragment.

  Aron continued, his voice steady and matter-of-fact. "The pressure in my body reinforces myself. My attacks become heavier, my defense stronger—I become both more powerful and more resistant. The longer a fight continues, the more solar pressure I accumulate, and the stronger I become. Up to a certain point, of course."

  He paused, looking down at his hands. "Eventually, I must release this pressure, or it becomes physically difficult for my body to contain."

  The golden emanations that sometimes rose from his body—that must be how he regulated the pressure.

  Lya listened to the explanation with rapt attention, her eyes wide. "Oh, that’s incredible. But if you accumulate pressure in your body, doesn't it become heavier? Don't you turn into a rock eventually?"

  Aron turned slightly, confusion evident in his golden eyes. "A rock?"

  "Yeah, like, too heavy to move," Lya clarified.

  "Ah." Understanding dawned on Aron's face. "Yes, but since it also increases my strength proportionally, it balances out."

  Lya nodded, apparently satisfied with the answer, and continued asking questions. Aron answered each one with the same straightforward earnestness, seemingly happy to explain every nuance of his power.

  Riven half-listened, letting their conversation wash over him as he drifted into a light doze. His body demanded rest after the day's exertions, and for once, he decided not to fight it.

  Night had fallen, wrapping the Plain of Corrupted Hands in a blanket of perfect darkness. They hadn't traveled far since their emergence onto the surface, choosing instead to focus on building a shelter. The makeshift refuge they'd constructed from the scattered bones of enormous creatures offered some protection—a crude dome of massive ribs and vertebrae, with smaller bones piled strategically to close gaps.

  Riven had positioned the entrance to face away from the wind, though the chill still found its way through countless small openings between the bones.

  Aron's massive body was already stretched out across the ground, his chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of deep sleep. The giant had positioned himself near the entrance, as if his unconscious body could serve as one more barrier between them and whatever might lurk in the darkness outside.

  Riven sat cross-legged at the center of their shelter, the parchment map spread open across his thighs. The faint glow of moonlight filtering through the bone ceiling wasn't enough to read by, but he hadn't yet attempted to illuminate it. Instead, he sat in near-darkness, his thoughts turning inward to the warm core behind his sternum.

  Something had been nagging at him since their fight with the monsters in the underground chamber. A question about his power—about himself.

  It's strange, he thought,

  I have the feeling I've become slightly stronger since killing those creatures. It's subtle, but I can feel it.

  The sensation was minimal, nothing compared to the dramatic shift he'd experienced when first bonding with his Fragment. But it was unmistakably there—a slight increase in the density of his Koras, perhaps, or a marginal expansion of his core's capacity.

  He couldn't pinpoint the exact nature of the change, only that something within him had shifted after their victory over the monsters. Was it simply his growing familiarity with his power? Or something more significant?

  The question hung suspended in his mind, unanswerable in the silence of the night. It wasn't as if some disembodied voice would suddenly speak up to explain the mechanics of his power.

  Instead of dwelling further on the mystery, Riven decided to try something he'd seen Lya do several times before. He concentrated, channeling Koras to his palm, trying to produce a violet glow like the green one she often created for light.

  To his mild surprise, it worked almost immediately. A soft violet illumination bloomed in his cupped hand, casting eerie shadows across the bone walls of their shelter. The light wasn't particularly bright—certainly not as vivid or steady as Lya's—but it was enough to see by.

  He wondered if the difference in luminosity meant he had concentrated less Koras than she typically did, or if it was simply the inherent difference between their powers. His violet, her green—both light, but manifesting in their own distinct ways.

  With the faint illumination now provided by his palm, Riven turned his attention to the parchment spread across his lap. The ink lines had filled in considerably since they'd first discovered the map, tracing their journey across what the notation called the "Plain of Corrupted Hands." The main path ended near the bottom right corner of the parchment, almost at the torn edge, marking their current position.

  "What are you doing?"

  The soft voice nearly made him jump. Lya had approached without making a sound, her silhouette now visible at the edge of his violet light. She crouched beside him, her face partly illuminated by the glow from his palm, her eyes reflecting the light like polished stones.

  "Nothing much," he replied quietly. "Just checking which direction we should head tomorrow, making sure we're still on the right path."

  Lya leaned closer, her shoulder brushing against his as she studied the map. Her finger extended toward the bottom right corner of the parchment.

  "You want to go toward this corner, right?" She traced the edge of the map. "Look, there seems to be something near the border, like... trees or bushes drawn there."

  Riven focused on where she was pointing, tilting the map slightly to catch more of the violet light. Sure enough, tiny illustrations that resembled trees or dense vegetation had appeared along the edge of the parchment.

  I'm certain those weren't there the last time I looked. They must have appeared since then.

  The realization that the map was actively updating itself—not just tracking where they'd been, but revealing what lay ahead as they approached—sent a small thrill through him. It was both unsettling and valuable, this strange relic that seemed to know more about their surroundings than they did.

  "We'll see tomorrow, I guess," he said aloud. "That's where we're heading anyway."

  He spoke again. "Shouldn't you be sleeping? If you insisted on taking the second watch tonight, you should rest during the first."

  In the dim light, he could barely make out her nod before she moved away, unfolding her green cape and spreading it on the ground nearby. She lay down and curled into herself, wrapping the cape around her body like a cocoon against the night's chill.

  Riven carefully refolded the map and tucked it away in his pocket. He extinguished the violet light in his palm, allowing darkness to reclaim the shelter.

  He shifted to position his back against the cold bone wall of their shelter, tilting his head to rest against it.

  The night watch stretched ahead of him—long, quiet hours until he would wake Lya for her turn.