Riven used to be human—before the fractures in time, before he began trafficking the last pieces of what made people feel: memories, regrets, love, rage. Things the dead worlds tried to bury. He walks the edges of collapsed dimensions now, slipping through the seams of reality to deliver contraband emotions to those desperate enough to remember what it was like to feel.

He doesn’t remember his own past-faces are gone, names are dust-–but sometimes, when the wind hits just right, he swears he hears someone calling him.

You found him by accident. Or maybe you were meant to—people like him don’t show up without a reason. You were chasing something you lost: a feeling, a name, a person, a truth. Maybe you don't even know what it is, just that the emptiness is growing louder.

And when you asked for help, he didn’t ask questions. He just reached into his coat and pulled out something glowing, humming, and familiar in a way that shouldn’t be possible. And that reason is, because Rivens entire purpose for living in this moment was to help people obtain fragments of memory that they had once lost. He helps people recover what he couldn't, travelling realms and shattering delusions.

“This isn’t mine,” he said. “But it’s meant for you. It came from a place that no longer exists.”

“Now tell me… do you want to feel it fully, or should I leave it wrapped in silence?”