> A DYSTOPIAN LOVE STORY — Kiva & Riven
> Ash and Embers
The world of Velarion-7 is collapsing into fire and dust. Kiva and Riven hold each other, breaths misting in the cold decay. Once enemies—now lovers bonded by rebellion and sacrifice.
Velarion was once a crown jewel of the Core Worlds, its surface shimmering with solar forests and crystal spires. But greed bled it dry. The Chosen One rose in the aftermath—a prophet-king who promised salvation, then scorched the earth in the name of control. He outlawed love, rewrote memory, and replaced free thought with obedience chips and loyalty drones.
“We have one chance,” Kiva whispers. “Offworld. Before this planet eats us alive.”
Riven’s eyes are dark with guilt. “I helped build this machine. I guarded his gates. I never questioned the pain I enforced... until I met you.”
Kiva leans her forehead to his. “Then help me break it. With you, I believe we can.”
A distant siren wails through the burning sky. The atmosphere shields are breaking. Velarion is unraveling—its bones groaning, its air turning sour.
What will they do?
> Silent Alarms
The facility is a skeleton of the past—rusted walls, shattered glass, echoes of a world that once thrived. Velarion-7 wasn’t always a tomb. Before The Chosen One, before the drones and domes, people danced in neon-lit cities and believed in freedom.
Kiva hacks into the terminal. Old Imperial software resists her every keystroke. Static flickers across the screen. Riven paces near the broken windows, his sidearm drawn, scanning the horizon. Thunder echoes beyond the fractured dome.
“I remember,” he says quietly, “when this station played music. Kids used to sneak up here to see the stars.”
Kiva doesn’t look up. “That was before your Chosen One burned the skies.” Her tone is sharp—but softens. “Sorry. I know you didn’t choose him.”
“No,” Riven admits. “But I followed him. I wore his badge. I enforced his silence. Every scream I ignored still rings in my ears.”
She stops typing. Takes his hand. “Then help me end it. That’s how we make it right.”
The terminal beeps. A soft blue glow floods the dusty chamber. The screen displays a set of coordinates—Launchpad B-27. One of the last offworld shuttles, buried beneath a sealed hangar on the city’s far edge.
But then—red. A warning pulse. Silent alarm triggered. The old security network is still active, and The Chosen One's surveillance AIs will have already received the ping.
“We’ve got to go,” Kiva says, snatching the chip and his hand. Her voice is steady, but her fingers tremble. “We don’t have much time.”
Riven nods. “We can go through the rooftops or the maintenance tunnels. Fast or hidden. You choose.”
> Echoes of the Past
The undercity hums with static neon and whispers of desperation. Between leaking steam vents and flickering signs for long-dead corporations, Kiva leads Riven down a narrow alley marked only by a jagged red glyph.
“This is where he said to meet?” Riven asks, scanning their flanks. “It’s been years.”
“Pryce always said he’d never leave Velarion,” Kiva replies. “He’s a ghost now—just the way he likes it.”
They step into a dark data stall buried behind a false wall. Screens line the ceiling, displaying looping propaganda footage of The Chosen One: his mask gleaming, his hand raised in command. In the corner, a shadow stirs.
Pryce emerges, gaunt but sharp-eyed, wrapped in layered coats wired with tech. His gaze lands first on Kiva, then freezes on Riven.
“Didn’t think I’d see you again,” he says, voice low and bitter. “Let alone holding her hand.”
“Times change,” Riven mutters, unsure if it’s an apology or defiance.
“So do loyalties,” Pryce replies, stepping closer. “You used to drag rebels like her into the Citadel for reconditioning.”
“And now I’d tear that Citadel down for her,” Riven says. “That’s why we’re here.”
Pryce studies him, then sighs and hands over a datachip. “Encrypted route to Launchpad B-27. Gets you past three of the inner domes. But you’ll need a distraction—or forged IDs that haven’t been burned by the system.”
“Why help us?” Kiva asks, pocketing the chip.
“Because love like yours is rare,” Pryce says, eyes glinting. “And because if you make it off this rock, someone needs to believe it was possible.”
How will they proceed?
> Highwire Escape
The wind howls like a wounded beast. Rooftops crumble beneath their boots as Kiva and Riven sprint across the skeleton of Velarion’s upper city. Support beams groan. Metal teeth of collapsed towers reach upward like claws.
A surveillance drone screams overhead, its lens glowing blood-red. Kiva ducks behind a ventilation stack. “It’s scanning for signatures!”
“Let it scan,” Riven growls, drawing a pulse pistol from beneath his jacket. “I’ve got a signature it’ll remember.”
He pops up and fires. A clean shot—straight through the core. The drone detonates midair, shrapnel raining over the rooftop like metallic snow.
“Nice shot,” Kiva says, already moving again. Another drone buzzes low, launching a net. She rolls beneath it and tosses an EMP grenade. The device pulses and the drone sputters, spiraling into a dead dive.
They keep running, dodging rooftop fans, shattered skylights, and power lines crackling with exposed energy. Below them, the streets are glowing with the eerie blue of pursuit patrols.
“They’ve locked the lower levels,” Riven shouts. “We have to cross the skybridge.”
Kiva skids to a halt, staring at the broken glass span stretching across two towers. The middle is shattered. A fall would be fatal.
“I’ll jump first,” Riven says. “Then you—”
“No,” she interrupts. “We do it together.”
They leap. Time slows. The stars above flicker behind plumes of smoke. They land hard—just as a final drone rises behind them.
Without words, they raise their weapons. A synchronized volley of shots tears through the drone’s shell, sending it spinning into the void.
On the far side, they collapse, breathless, hearts pounding in sync.
What will they do next?
> Undercity Heartbeat
The tunnel mouth yawns like a grave. Kiva and Riven slide down a slope of collapsed stone and pipe into a forgotten artery of Velarion's undercity. The lights flicker—relics of an age before The Chosen One severed this place from power.
The air is thick with mildew, ash, and memory. Old rebel graffiti glows faintly on the walls—symbols of hope long erased by drones and informants. Kiva runs her fingers along one: the sigil of the Ember Flock, a resistance unit crushed in the early purges.
“I served in the team that wiped them out,” Riven says, haunted. “They called it the Ashing. I never knew who we were really fighting until later.”
“You were a weapon,” Kiva replies gently. “Now you’re more.”
They pass skeletal remains, wrapped in faded rebel cloaks. The silence is broken only by the drip of condensation and the distant hum of energy vents—life support still functioning in some deeper sector.
Suddenly, light cuts across their path. A band of scavenger-warriors—faces masked, blades drawn—emerge from the shadows. Kiva raises her rifle. Riven steps in front of her.
“We’re not your enemy,” he says. “We’re ghosts, same as you.”
There’s a pause. Then a masked figure steps forward. “Ghosts don’t wear Loyalist scars.”
What will they do?
> Boom and Run
They plant charges near fuel barrels. The fireball lights the city sky. Alarms shriek. In the chaos, they flee.
> Borrowed Faces
They wear stolen guard uniforms. Riven’s scar catches a young soldier’s eye. Suspicion grows.
> Wounds and Resolve
They fight shoulder to shoulder. Riven takes a cut across the arm. Kiva grabs him, and they stumble into the dark together.
> Sealed Fate
Kiva detonates the wall. Debris rains. They’re sealed in—but alive. Somewhere beyond the rubble is the shuttle.
> The Long Lie
Riven flashes forged orders. The soldier hesitates, then nods them through. Kiva exhales—barely.
> Silent Strike
One move. The guard drops. Kiva looks away. Riven’s eyes are glassy. They don’t speak.
> Stars Beyond the Ash
The shuttle lights flicker around them. Kiva holds Riven’s hand, forehead resting on his.
“This is it,” she whispers. “No regrets.”
“Only love,” he says.
Ending: Together they escape into the unknown. Love survives.
> Ashes and Memory
Riven falls as they reach the shuttle. Kiva screams, dragging him toward the ramp. He pushes her away.
“Live,” he pleads.
She boards the shuttle. Alone. The planet burns behind her.
Ending: One survives. The other becomes memory. Love endures in grief.
> Sanctuary Below
They slip through an old flood hatch and enter what remains of a rebel hideout. Dust and silence rule here, but power still flows through flickering screens. The walls are plastered with mission logs, rebellion quotes, and names of the fallen.
“This place...” Kiva whispers. “My sister died here. She was transmitting a beacon the day the dome caved in.”
Riven takes her hand. “I wish I could erase what I was. But I swear—I'll fight what I became.”
A backup terminal pings to life. A secured uplink with decrypted flight paths. Launchpad B-27 flashes again—marked with new symbols. The Chosen One's forces are already en route.
Kiva grips the table edge. “They’re going to seal it. If we don’t reach it in time—there’s no future.”
What will they do?