Chapter 5 – The Seeker from Caelondia
Three days passed.
Vael kept his wrist wrapped, but he didn't have to hide it from Mireal. She had seen the shadow-mark. Touched it. Felt its unnatural coldness. And she hadn't flinched.
She hadn't told anyone either.
No questions. No judgment. Just quiet, steady presence.
Sometimes, that made the silence between them even heavier.
---
On the fourth morning, a rider arrived.
Clad in polished black and silver armor, with a long cloak trailing behind her, the stranger bore the insignia of the Crowned Script — the ruling force of Caelondia's capital.
The villagers bowed before she even spoke.
She dismounted with precision, movements practiced and efficient. Her gaze swept the village once, sharp and clinical, like a quill assessing blank parchment.
"I am Seeker Elowen of the Scriptorium Guard," she said. "By decree of the High Readers, I've come to investigate an irregularity in the Rite of Marking."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"An irregularity?" someone whispered. "You mean… the Unmarked?"
Vael felt the weight of every eye turn toward him.
---
Seeker Elowen didn't approach immediately. She asked questions. Calmly. Thoroughly.
She spoke to the Ritekeeper, reviewed the records of the ceremony, observed the stone altar, even examined the orb used to draw the Fate Marks.
"The boy touched the orb," the Ritekeeper confirmed. "And nothing happened."
Elowen narrowed her eyes. "Nothing, you say."
She turned to the villagers. "Where is this boy now?"
---
Vael didn't run.
Running would confirm guilt — of what, he didn't even know.
Instead, he stood in the square when Elowen approached. Mireal stood beside him, her small hand gripping his tightly. Her expression was calm, but her fingers trembled. She knew what might happen if the mark was discovered.
Elowen looked him over — slow, deliberate.
"Name?"
"Vael."
"No house. No lineage. No recorded Mark." She knelt slightly, examining him. "And yet… your thread resists being read."
Vael blinked. "You can see Threads?"
"All Seekers can." She stood. "But yours behaves strangely. There's something… misaligned."
She extended a hand.
"Let me examine you properly."
Mireal's grip tightened.
Vael hesitated — not because he feared what Elowen would find, but because he didn't want to drag Mireal deeper.
But he couldn't back away now.
He took Elowen's hand.
---
Her eyes widened.
Only for a second. A flicker. But Vael saw it.
Her breath caught. Her hand trembled — barely.
Then she withdrew.
"…There's nothing," she said, voice flat.
Liar.
He could feel it — the same way he felt Threads tremble before snapping. She had seen something, but now she was choosing silence.
Why?
She turned away. "The record will state that the anomaly has faded. The boy is… dormant. No threat."
The crowd relaxed.
Mireal exhaled — but her eyes didn't leave Elowen's back.
Vael didn't relax.
He watched her mount her horse again, and saw her Thread — dark red, coiled like a spear — twitch, just slightly.
She wasn't here to confirm a mistake.
She was here to mark a threat.
And she had just chosen to lie to her masters.
---
That night, Vael and Mireal sat on the rooftop of their cottage, knees drawn to their chests. The village slept around them.
"You saw it, didn't you?" Mireal whispered.
He nodded.
"She knows."
"I know."
They were quiet for a long time. Then she said, "Do you think she'll come back?"
"No," Vael said. "She won't need to."
He looked at the night sky, where two Threads now curled from his chest — one silver, one shadow.
"They're already watching."
---
Far above Caelondia, in the mirrored halls of the Scriptorium, the sealed fates of the world unraveled silently.
A single name glowed on a floating scroll:
Vael.
Beside it, the record read:
> "Status: Unmarked"
> "Thread Status: Dormant"
> "Observer Deployed: Elowen"
> "Intervention: Withheld (Discretion applied)"
In the darkness behind the scroll, a hidden voice whispered:
"The Thread lives."
Another answered:"Then let us see how long it can stay untangled."