All he could do at the time was freeze; he did not know what to think anymore. All he knew was that it was not supposed to be there; it was not there before... well, not on his original body anyways.
His brows furrowed as he reached out to touch his back. There it was, staring back at him as though it knew what was going on, etched between his shoulder blades like a brand seared into flesh, the mark pulsed faintly. a jagged, circular design wreathed in interwoven streaks of deep crimson and violet, both colors shifting ever so slightly as if they were… breathing.
At the very center was an eye, not drawn but seemingly formed, its iris a molten red ring surrounded by inky violet. It didn't blink, yet it felt aware. Watching. Waiting, it was creepy to the point it made his stomach churn.
Every few seconds, the entire mark throbbed in rhythm with something inside him like it had a heartbeat of its own.
He reached for it, fingertips brushing the edge of the mark. A spark jolted through his nerves. His vision warped for a second, the mirror distorting into ripples, and whispers clawed at the edge of his hearing, but they were gone just as quickly as they came.
He jerked his hand away, chest rising and falling, and his breathing became heavy.
Whatever it was, it wasn't just a mark and he could feel it in his bones; something was different about it and letting people see that was not going to be a good idea.
It felt as though it was natural, alive and a part of him, one which he did not want and he exhaled deeply then quickly wiped off the water from his skin and got dressed in the clothes they had gotten for him.
He knew he would be summoned soon; all he had to do was wait to see what they planned to do with him next; he had a feeling it was not going to be pleasant just like the academy he was going to be sent to.
While waiting, his thoughts drifted back to the mark on his back; he did not know what it meant, but one thing was for sure: he needed to figure out and understand what it was. He knew it meant something important and before it got him into unnecessary trouble, he needed to figure it out.
'I wonder what the name of the original owner of this body is... I have no money from him or anything for that matter; I hope my actions in the future do not backfire on me; I cannot afford that; I need this to work; let's see what is the news of the academy,' Sion thought as he was about to leave the room.
When he heard a loud knock on his door and he paused in his steps. He faltered for a split second, then he exhaled deeply and opened the door with his eyes narrowed.
Two palace guards stepped in, flanking a robed figure, one of the king's mages.
"The king summons you," the mage said flatly. "Now."
Sion nodded without any resistance, though his jaw tightened. He cast a glance around the room; he had a feeling he wouldn't be back. He could feel it and he knew a decision was about to be made regarding where he stood in this world from here on out.
As they walked the long marble halls, tension grew in his gut. Servants whispered behind curtains. Eyes followed him, some curious, others wary, just like they did before when they first saw him. Whatever had happened in that cell, word was spreading faster than fire, especially about his arrival.
The grand double doors of the throne room loomed ahead.
They opened without announcement.
The room was filled with voices, advisors, nobles, and high-ranking officers in debate, just like the first time and he had no doubt it was about him once again. It wasn't the calm, regal atmosphere of before; it was heated. An argument was brewing.
Sion was ushered in toward the center. The voices quieted.
The young king sat atop the darkened dais, his crimson eyes fixed on Sion the moment he entered. Cold, calculating… almost amused.
"So," the king said slowly, leaning forward, fingers interlocked beneath his chin. "The summoned one decided not to run; I have to be honest, I thought you would, just like many before, the sane ones, but maybe there is something wrong with you."
Sion said nothing, choosing instead to meet the king's gaze—wary, alert.
A minister stepped forward. "Your Majesty, we still don't have a clear report on what occurred during the summoning. The magic readings were unstable—off the charts, even for a summoning ritual. And his form—"
"I don't need your stammering," the king interrupted, eyes still on Sion. "You. Tell me your name."
"Sion," he said, after a moment's pause, since he was not sure whether he should have even said that, due to the fact he knew nothing about this body, but at the time he had no choice, he needed to give him a proper response.
The king nodded in acknowledgement when he heard his name; the court murmured. Sion clenched his fists behind his back; he could hear their whispers; even their eyes held some disdain for him when he had never even done anything to them before, but it was expected; he had seen people like them all his life and this was not new either.
The king stood slowly and walked down the steps, each footstep sharp against the polished floor. He stopped a few paces in front of Sion.
"You are bound here by something even our seers don't yet understand," the king said, his voice low. "Whether you are a curse or a tool, I will not waste potential."
He turned to the court. "As I said before, he will be sent to the academy with the others that I have chosen; there will be competitors; he will be the first commoner."
His words made the entire court in the throne room go quiet; they knew that he was planning to mix some of the nobles and commoners in the academy, but they never thought it would be someone who they knew nothing of.