The fire in their makeshift camp had burned low, reduced to glowing embers that painted the surrounding forest in shifting shades of crimson and shadow. Riven sat apart from the flames, his back against the rough bark of an ancient oak, eyes closed. Sleep had never come easily to him—not since the demonic blood in his veins had awakened—but tonight it claimed him with unnatural force.
Pain.
It lanced through his skull like a white-hot blade. Riven gasped, clutching his head as visions flooded him. Not dreams. Memories. Not his own, but those of the demon bound to his soul.
He stood on a shattered plain beneath a sky torn by violet lightning. Legions of celestial beings clashed with hordes of abyssal creatures. Wings of pure light met claws of shadow. At the center of the maelstrom rose
