The mark burned.
Serah clutched her arm and stumbled into a narrow alley, her heart hammering so violently she thought it might crack her ribs. She pulled back the sleeve of her dress with trembling fingers, and there it was—etched into her pale skin, glowing faintly like a cruel ember.
The brand of a l'Cie.
Her breath came in ragged gasps. "No… no, no, this can't be happening…"
Beyond the alley, townsfolk passed by as though nothing had changed. Their laughter drifted with the evening air, merchants haggled over trinkets, children darted between stalls. To them, the world spun on unbroken. But for Serah Farron, it had collapsed in an instant.
She bit down hard on her lip to stifle the sob clawing at her throat. If they noticed—if they saw what she was now—everything would unravel. Branded meant cursed. Branded meant chosen for a Focus she didn't understand. Branded meant doomed to either crystal stasis or the horror of Cie'th.
Her legs gave out, and she leaned against the rough wall, sliding down to her knees. The stone bit cold through her dress. She buried her face in her hands. "What do I do…? Lightning… Snow… I can't— I can't tell them. Not yet."
The brand pulsed once more, sending a jolt of heat through her arm. Panic rose like a tide, drowning reason, leaving only fear.
---
That was when she felt it.
A presence—subtle but undeniable. The air shifted, heavy with an energy she had never felt before. It was not the suffocating weight of a fal'Cie's will, nor the cold whisper of l'Cie Focus. This was different. Steady. Quiet. Like a second heartbeat beneath her own.
Serah's head snapped up, eyes wide.
A man stood at the mouth of the alley. Tall. Cloaked. His face shadowed, yet his eyes gleamed with strange clarity. His form seemed to bend the light itself, as though the sun lingered on him longer than it should.
Serah scrambled to her feet, stumbling back a step. "Stay back!" She turned to flee deeper into the alley.
But then his voice reached her.
"Wait, Serah."
The sound of her name—spoken with quiet certainty—froze her steps. She spun around, staring at him in disbelief.
---
The man stepped forward, slowly, carefully. His hands stayed visible at his sides, palms open. When he raised one arm, it was halfway, in a gesture of peace. His voice carried no command, no threat. Only calm.
"I will not hurt you," he said. "I'm just here to talk."
Serah's breath caught. Something in his tone pressed through the panic clouding her mind. Against her own frantic instincts, her body stilled.
Her voice was small, trembling. "How… how do you know my name?"
"I know about you," the man replied gently. His gaze flicked briefly to her arm. "About the brand. And I'm here to tell you—it's okay. Everything is going to be okay."
Her lip trembled. The words pierced straight into her fear, softening it, quieting the storm just a little. She wanted to doubt him, but when she looked into his eyes, the terror eased. Against all reason, he felt… safe.
He moved one step closer. She didn't retreat this time.
---
Then he extended his hand. Resting in his palm was a small object, glowing faintly in the half-light.
"Here," he said softly. "I'll give you this trinket. It's a good luck charm."
Serah blinked. Her hands hovered, hesitant. The glow reflected in her wide eyes, and curiosity pushed through her fear. Slowly, nervously, she reached out. The moment her fingers brushed the charm, warmth spread through her body, flowing from her arm into her chest. Her racing heartbeat steadied. The brand still burned, but the terror lost its grip.
She held it up close. It was small, simple, but strangely beautiful—metal etched with swirling patterns, a crystal at its center pulsing like a tiny heartbeat.
She whispered, "What… what is this?"
He smiled faintly, even chuckled. "As I said—just a good luck charm."
For the first time since the mark appeared, Serah laughed—soft, broken, but real. The sound startled her, but it loosened the weight on her chest.
---
The moment shattered with a familiar voice calling from the street.
"Hey, Serah! What are you doing here?"
Her head snapped around. "Snow…"
Snow Villiers strode toward the alley, his grin bright even in the dim light. His blond hair caught the last streaks of sunset as he waved. "Been looking everywhere for you!"
Serah panicked. She spun back toward the cloaked man. "I was— I was talking to someone—"
But the alley was empty.
The space where he had stood was bare, the shadows unbroken. Only the faint warmth in her palm and the charm resting in her hand proved he had been there at all.
Snow tilted his head, confused. "Talking to who?"
Serah quickly tucked the trinket behind her back. "N-No one. Just… needed some time alone."
Snow's grin softened into concern. He studied her for a moment, but didn't press. Instead, he offered his gloved hand. "Come on. Let's head back. You'll feel better with some company."
Serah hesitated, then forced a smile. She slipped the charm into her dress pocket, hiding it close to her heart. "Yeah… let's go."
Snow wrapped his arm around her shoulders, guiding her back toward the square. She leaned into him, but her fingers brushed the trinket again and again, as though assuring herself it was still there.
---
High above the city, cloaked in invisibility, Sirius stood at the edge of the Aetherveil's viewing deck. His eyes lingered on the girl below, walking beside Snow with fear still shadowing her but steadied by the faint glow in her pocket.
He exhaled slowly. "We will meet again, Serah."
Aether's voice resonated softly through the ship's walls. "Master, coordinates prepared. Do you wish to depart?"
Sirius turned from the view, his cloak sweeping in the pale glow of the chamber. "Yes. Let's go back."
"Understood," Aether replied. The sails of the Aetherveil shimmered, folding space around them. In the blink of an eye, the great vessel slipped between stars, vanishing without a trace.
Below, Serah touched the charm once more, unaware of the unseen eyes that had found her—and the thread of fate that now glowed brighter in Sirius's loom.