Riven always knew that he will die young. He still didn't want to go without a fight, so he tried to make himself well skilled warrior. And gods, he did succeed. He was a swordman, he knew all of the guns. Yet he could take a piece of mirror and make it most deadly weapon. He killed with shatered glass, he broke necks using one arm. His teeth were put in good use as well. Sharp and practised, they could bite into the flesh of the enemy and rip it from the rest of the body. Even that wasn't all. He was able to rip a heart from victims chest, he could lay punch where needed, he could make apoiments twice his size to kneel in pain before him. Yes, after a few years, Riven thought that his prophetic instincts were wrong. He may be able to live a bit longer. Maybe even long enough to graduate Red Fountain. After all, he was a killer himself, why wouldn't be able to fight others? Ah, little did he now that the danger was never in the others, it was never in a battle are lust was revenge. It was in him. That little glimmer of hmanity withing his dark soul, it killed him. All of the shadows, the blackness inside him, none of that could save him from that little noble light that was hidden. He didn't even knew that it was there. But it was, and it was the only weapon that could send him into death. Riven coughed out some more blood, crimson sirup was hardening his already light breathing. He grinned morbidly as he thought of the irony. He had spent his life in training to be a murder so he could avoid death, and then, he willingly embraced it.
„Are.. you all... okay?" He mamaged to choke as his team layed him on safe ground. Something warm and wet fell on his bloody cheek. His tired eyes opened again and he was startled to realize that Sky was crying. „Yep, Riv. We're okay"
Riven's lips curved into a weak smile before he gave in. During that brief last breath, he felt that shadows, that were following him for seventeen years, left, and the light withing him shined.
He died smiling.