Selene
She had stopped praying days ago.
In the cold dark of the ruined crypt, time unraveled. There was no sun, no moon, only Kael's footsteps and the growing sense that her blood no longer obeyed her.
The dreams had sharpened. She no longer saw Kael only as a shadow in them—he was clearer now, wrapped in fire, sword drawn, voice echoing in languages she didn't know she understood.
And sometimes… she wasn't herself in those dreams.
She was someone else. Someone older. Crueler. Bound in red silk, mouth stained with blood, and a crown of thorns biting into her skull.
You were made for more, the dream voice whispered. You were made to end it.
---
Kael entered, eyes sharper than before.
He didn't chain her today. That frightened her more than the restraints ever had.
He placed a shallow bronze bowl before her, filled with black water. "Look," he said.
Selene hesitated—but the water shimmered.
Not a reflection. A vision.
She saw a woman—long-haired, gold-eyed, standing at the heart of a burning palace. Her face was Selene's, but not. Older. Wiser. Bloody.
Behind her, a younger Kael knelt—wounded, fangs bared, looking at her with something between worship and rage.
"Who is she?" Selene whispered.
Kael answered without blinking.
"You."
---
She ran.
Not far. The chains still limited her reach, but she didn't care. Her breath came short, ragged, as if something inside her had been unlocked and now screamed for release.
"I'm not her," she said aloud. "I'm not that."
"You don't get to choose," Kael said from behind.
She turned on him, shaking. "You think tormenting me with visions will make me into your weapon?"
"I don't want a weapon," he said coldly. "I want the truth. And your blood holds it."
Selene glared. "You keep talking about my blood. What's in it?"
Kael moved to the wall—touched a symbol that pulsed red.
Then he said something that didn't sound like language. It sounded like hunger.
The ground trembled.
And suddenly, Selene felt it.
A burn—not pain, but pressure—beneath her collarbone. Like something waking.
She looked down.
A symbol was forming beneath her skin. A mark, shaped like an eclipse, edged in old magic. Glowing faintly.
"What is this?" she whispered.
Kael didn't answer immediately. When he did, his voice held something rare: reverence.
"It is the Seal of Sangreth," he said. "The mark of the bloodbearer. The vessel."
Selene's breath caught.
"A vessel for what?"
Kael stepped closer, the shadows around him curling like smoke.
"For the god who cursed us all."
---
Elsewhere...
In the Ivory Spire of the High Sanctum, a corrupted priest carved symbols into his flesh as he chanted into a mirror of bone.
"She awakens," he said to the face within. "The bloodbearer has seen the mark."
The mirror rippled.
And from the other side, a voice replied:
"Then it's time to send the Hunters."