Riven left the Sanctum of the Abyss, his mind turning over Nyx's words. A key. A threshold. A risk. He didn't like unknowns, not when it came to abyssal magic. He would give Nyx time to study the runes, but that didn't mean he would sit idle.
There were other things he needed to test.
His footsteps carried him back through the winding halls of the Necromancy Temple, past murmuring students and scholars, until he reached the Hall of Mastery. The air here thrummed with structured power, a stark contrast to the untamed abyssal force in the Sanctum.
Inside, the elite necromancers were honing their craft. Some practiced soul-binding, weaving spirits into enchanted armor and weapons. Others shaped abyssal constructs, fine-tuning their control over pure energy. And a few—those with the most refined mastery—were performing spectral forging.
That was what caught Riven's eye.
