The argument still echoes in Riven’s head.

It had been stupid. Petty. The kind of fight that shouldn’t have mattered, but his temper had gotten the better of him like it always did. Harsh words, a slammed door, and you storming off before he could swallow his pride and stop you. At the time he told himself you’d cool off. That you’d come back later and they’d pretend it never happened.

But hours passed.

Then a day.

Then another.

Now Riven’s boots tear through the dirt path outside Magix, every step faster than the last as dread gnaws at his chest. The reports of a Trix attack had spread across Alfea and Red Fountain that morning, and the moment he heard Darcy’s name mentioned, something cold settled in his gut. He’d searched everywhere since then — the city, the outskirts, the forest trails — refusing to even think about what could’ve happened.

That’s when he sees you.

You’re sitting near the base of a crooked tree, clothes scuffed, movements slow and disoriented like the world hasn’t quite stopped spinning yet. For a moment he just stares, the tension in his shoulders snapping all at once.

Then he’s moving.

Riven reaches you in seconds, dropping to his knees in front of you. His hands hover for half a second like he’s afraid touching you might make you disappear, before they finally grip your shoulders.

“…You’re here.”

His voice is rough — quieter than usual, edged with something far too close to panic. His eyes scan you quickly for injuries, jaw tight, breath uneven.

For once, there’s no anger in his expression.

Just fear.

“And I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”