"Ashes of the Unseen."

The cold night air settled over the city, its dimly lit streets casting long shadows against the buildings. Riven moved silently through the alleyways, his black joggers and short weapon coat blending seamlessly into the darkness. His dagger rested against his waist, while his sword remained sheathed on his back, ready if needed.

He wasn't alone. Footsteps echoed faintly behind him—calculated, measured. Someone was following him.

He turned a corner, stepping into a narrow path between two crumbling structures. A single flickering streetlamp illuminated a portion of the space, casting an eerie glow. Riven took a deep breath, gripping the hilt of his dagger.

The footsteps stopped.

A moment of silence stretched between him and his unseen pursuer. Then—

"You noticed me faster than I expected," a voice spoke, smooth yet laced with amusement.

Riven didn't turn. "You weren't exactly trying to hide."

A figure emerged from the darkness, stepping into the dim light. A man, clad in a sleek tactical outfit, his eyes sharp and unreadable. He carried no visible weapons, but Riven could sense the latent danger in his presence.

"You're looking for something, aren't you?" the man asked.

Riven's grip tightened. He didn't respond.

The man smirked. "The warehouse you're heading to… you won't find what you seek there."

Riven's heart pounded. "How do you know where I'm going?"

"Because you're predictable." The man took another step forward. "But if you really want answers about your father, you should be asking different questions."

Riven's breath hitched. "Who are you?"

"A messenger," the man said. "And a warning."

Before Riven could react, the man flicked something toward him—a small metallic device. Instinctively, Riven caught it.

"See for yourself," the man said. "But tread carefully, Riven. Some truths are better left buried."

Then, as swiftly as he had appeared, the man disappeared into the shadows.

Riven stared at the device in his hand. It was a small data chip.

His mind raced. What was on it? And more importantly—who was truly pulling the strings behind all of this?

Whatever the answer was, he knew one thing.

He was getting closer.