The forest was alive with whispers.
Every step Kael took seemed to stir the shadows. Leaves rustled though the wind was still, and tree branches groaned like ancient bones settling into uneasy sleep. The dirt trail beneath his feet twisted like a serpent through tangled roots and bramble, leading him deeper into the unknown.
But it was not the forest that unsettled him—it was the mark on his arm.
It burned.
Not like fire.
Not like pain.
It was something… alive.
---
Kael paused under a gnarled oak. The moonlight filtered through cracked branches, casting fractured silver over his face. He pulled back his sleeve, exposing the mark—a spiral of jagged lines, pulsing with an eerie indigo glow.
He ran his fingers over it. The skin wasn't scarred. It wasn't even raised. It felt like a part of him—as natural as his breath, as foreign as a blade between the ribs.
And tonight, it pulsed stronger.
> "What are you?" he whispered.
The mark didn't answer.
But the forest did.
---
Suddenly, a howl split the silence.
Low. Feral. Close.
Kael's heart slammed into his ribs. He backed against the tree, eyes scanning the trees.
Then came the eyes—glowing yellow, slinking through the underbrush. One pair. Then two. Then five.
Not wolves.
Worse.
Shadehounds.
Creatures of shadow and hunger, born from the remains of ancient curses and dark magic. They only hunted at night, drawn to weakness… or power.
And Kael reeked of both.
---
He took a step back—but it was too late.
The lead hound lunged.
Kael raised his arms in instinct. Time slowed.
A flash—
A spark—
Then, the mark erupted.
Blue light exploded from his forearm, forming a barrier of energy that knocked the creature mid-air. It yelped and crashed into a tree, twitching before going still.
Kael stared in shock.
The mark on his arm had spread, now glowing up to his wrist, swirling with faint glyphs that hovered like mist around his skin.
> "What... the hell..."
The other hounds paused, growling with hesitation. For a moment, they looked confused. And then—they bowed their heads.
Not in defeat.
In submission.
---
Kael took a step forward.
The hounds backed away.
Another step.
They vanished into the trees, melting into shadows.
He stood alone again, heart pounding, mind spinning.
What had just happened?
---
For days, he had hidden that mark. For years, he had buried the memories—the voices that whispered in dreams, the moments of strength he couldn't explain, the fear in others' eyes when he got angry.
They were right to fear him.
But they should have feared what came next.
> "You're not like us," the elder had said.
He was right.
Kael wasn't like them.
He was something more.
---
He pulled down his sleeve, hiding the mark once again.
The forest fell silent.
But inside him, something ancient stirred. A power long forgotten, now awakened by betrayal… and loneliness.
And now it whispered, louder than before.
> "They left you. Let them regret it."
Kael turned his gaze north—toward the cities that cast him out, toward the ones who turned the
ir backs.
Toward the empire that feared what he might become.
> "I'm coming," he muttered.
"But not as the boy you left behind."