To start, I'd like to thank everybody in advance for reading this. This is my first venture onto the world of fanfiction since I was 13 years old, and I hope to better my writing and presentation through this story. Thank you, and enjoy.

My name, is… Riven. I'm twenty six years old, and I'm a murderer, a betrayer, fallen warrior, a broken swordswoman.. If you're reading this, then… That means that I've either peacefully passed away, free of my sins, a redeemed warrior. Or, that I've fallen, succumbed to this darkness inside of me, unable to reach salvation.

"No, no I can't write that… Nobody's going to read this nonsense. Foolish." Riven sputtered as she tore the page out of her empty booklet and threw the paper into the fire. She then groaned as she moved her frozen, aching limbs. The cold weather of Ionia was not forgiving of her injuries. Just weeks ago, she had escaped from the painful cloud of poison left by Singed, the same cloud she had suffered through with her troops, who ultimately died like helpless rats to the acid that had filled their lungs. She was… "lucky.." she mumbled to herself, her train of thought lingering on the laughter she heard as Singed had littered the battlefield with gas. How foolish she was, to believe such a twisted sense of strength could be real.

She looked down at her sword; "The pride of Noxus" was its official name, a splendid combination of Noxian Steel and raw magical power. Imbued into the sword, were runes that glowed like the moon, elegant in their nature, they held more power than any general in Demacia, or Noxus. Riven herself could not even begin to tap into the full strength of the magic in her sword, despite having trained with it for years. So many memories, people she had killed, people she cared for, her comrades, her family all of it was gone because of her pursuit for greatness. Riven was angry, confused, regretful, and hateful of herself, of her sword, of her life.
Her brilliant crimson eyes scanned over the blade, its edge glowing red in the firelight, and she swallowed hard. "I hate you." She mumbled, and then again "I Hate You." With more ferocity, more intent, more painful memories that swallowed her mind and clouded her every waking moment "I HATE YOU!" she screamed, finally, resignation in her voice. Her emotions swirled and she rose from her spot on the ground, took her sword, and without a single movement of hesitation she turned towards a large nearby rock, easily 3 times her size, and swung her sword down on its flat side with all of her might ignoring the pain in her arms, in her lungs, in every part of her body as she screamed "I HATE YOU!".

There was a silence that hung in the air for some time, before a crack shattered it. A green and yellow light sprung up from the tree line and the ground shook for a moment, brief, but anybody nearby was alerted to the sudden power filling the air, the sharpness of its feeling and the permeation of it. Birds and other animals scattered from the small blast zone, and in its wake stood riven, sobbing her sword as broken as her spirit. She let out wail upon wail, her despair and agony like a knife in the air. Her sword was crumbling; the broken pieces of it disappearing like sand in the wind. Riven did not care, she believed then, that she never would care about anything ever again. Her life was as broken as the blade in her hand, now short, blunt, cracked and nearly gone. A shadow of its former glory but a moment before, she wanted this. She wanted every second of this, this broken sword and every feeling it brought to her, every life she had reaped with it, every ounce of her power now but a shadow of its former self.

Off in the distance, the shockwave reached a similarly broken soul, lost in his own way, the wind brought him much comfort, but with it the feeling of sorrow, grief, loss. Something that to him, was all too familiar. He looked up, his dark eyes looking at the tree line as it shook with pale dim greens and yellows from Riven's broken sword. A feeling that reached him sent shivers up his spine. He somehow felt as if he knew what was coming.

End.