The forest closed around him.
Elias forced his way through the brush. Branches tore his cloak. His boots slid in mud. His chest burned. The mark pulsed fast, not with his heartbeat but with its own rhythm.
Behind him, the Inquisitors shouted. Their torches moved between the trees.
"Spread out. Do not lose him."
Elias stumbled forward. Each step made noise. Each breath felt too loud. He pressed his hand against the mark as if pressure could smother the heat.
The voice came. Low. Calm. Inside his head.
"You cannot run forever."
Elias clenched his jaw. "Be silent."
The voice persisted.
"You weaken. I do not. Let me guide you."
He shook his head, still running. "No."
It pressed closer.
"You felt me. Six armed men. You lived. That was not your strength."
Elias tripped on a root. He hit the ground hard. Mud caked his hands. Pain struck his ribs. The mark flared hotter.
"Not mine," he growled. "Never mine."
The voice laughed. Short. Sharp.
"You deny, but you already carry me."
The trees broke into open ground. Moonlight lit a clearing. Tall grass swayed. Elias collapsed against an oak. His chest rose and fell fast.
Torchlight glowed faint in the woods behind him. The soldiers still closed in.
"They will catch you. They will bind you. They will burn you."
Elias shut his eyes. His father's words echoed. The Inquisition protects. They burn only the corrupted.
Yet the captain had ordered him alive. Not questioned. Not heard. Only seized.
"You are not theirs," the voice said. "You are mine. We will burn them first."
Elias forced the words out. "I will not be your weapon."
"You already are."
The certainty froze him. His chest throbbed harder. His vision wavered. The clearing bent around him. For a moment, he saw shapes in the trees. Eyes, gold and watching. Then they were gone.
The boots drew closer. Elias pushed himself from the tree. He stumbled into a ravine. Water ran below. He fell to his knees and splashed it on his face.
The cold bit his skin. It did nothing to the heat inside. The mark seared. He clutched his chest and cried out.
"Stop fighting me."
"No." His voice cracked. "Never."
The pain surged. Then visions struck.
The forest vanished. He stood in wasteland. Fire cut the sky red. Rivers of molten stone ran across broken ground. Towers of bone stretched high. Ranks of demons marched. Their eyes burned like brands.
Above them, wings of shadow spread across the sky. They were his wings.
Elias stumbled back, hand on his sword. "What is this?"
"What you will become," the voice answered.
He shook his head. "That is not me."
"It already is. Each time you fight, you move closer."
Shouts broke the vision. The wasteland vanished. The forest returned. The stream ran at his feet. But the fire remained.
He rose and forced his legs to move. He followed the ravine, water masking his steps. The soldiers' voices carried overhead.
"He went this way."
"Check below."
Elias crouched low. He slid beneath a fallen log. His breaths came shallow. His muscles shook.
The torchlight passed above. Voices faded. They did not descend.
He let out air slowly. His head fell against damp wood. His body trembled. For a moment, he felt safe.
The voice returned.
"They will not stop. They burn until nothing is left. You cannot hide. You must fight."
Elias closed his fists. Rage and grief pushed at his chest. He wanted silence. He wanted peace. But the voice pressed a truth he could not deny. The Inquisition would not forgive him. He was marked.
The brand throbbed again. Memory cut through the heat. His mother in prayer. His father's stern warnings. His friends in the temple halls. All dead.
The whisper slid back in, slow and certain.
"They abandoned you. I will not. Choose me. Vengeance begins."
Elias pressed his palms to his head. Tears burned his eyes. He wanted the mark gone. He wanted the voice gone. Neither left.
A branch cracked above. Torchlight flickered back across the ravine. The soldiers circled.
Elias rose. He lifted his sword. His grip shook, but his eyes held fire.
He no longer thought of running.
The voice whispered.
"Now you understand."
And Elias did not silence it.