A low, steady heat spreads across his back.
The dream is gone. His heart. It was finally slowing down.
The wild, painful pounding in his chest was starting to fade. It wasn't trying to break free anymore. But the feeling stays.
That strange, warm heat. It moves beneath his skin, gentle but firm, like it's alive. Like it remembers the fear from the dream and is swallowing it, holding it down. The mark is awake. Always after nightmares. Always.
Kairen stood in his small, gray room. He just breathed. In. Out.
His hands were still shaking. He looked at them. Stupid. He clenched them into fists.
He had to look at something real.
His eyes jumped around the room. Just looking. For anything.
The rug on the floor. It was old. The colors were mostly gone.
His desk in the corner was just a mountain of books. Books he was supposed to have read over the summer. He hadn't.
And above them, pinned to the wall, were his drawings.. Strange patterns that looked like a secret language he used to know, but had forgotten.
And the poster. His only poster. The Sky-Sailors. All of them brave. Fearless. Impossible.
A hero's son, shaking at his own shadow, he thought. What a joke.
He didn't want to look. He really, really didn't. The bad dream was too close, still clinging to him, and he knew what he would see. He knew the mark would be… awake. Active.
But he had to. It was a sick kind of need. A need to see the proof. He had to see it. The secret he had to carry.
The walk to the bathroom felt so long.
His legs were shaky. Each step was hard.
The floorboards creaked.
The sound was loud in the quiet room.
He got inside the bathroom. He closed the door. His hand found the lock. A familiar click. A habit he didn't even think about anymore. A habit from a lifetime of hiding.
The cold tile on his bare feet was a shock. It was good. It was real.
He stand in front of the small, cracked mirror over the sink. He made himself look.
His face. His hair was a mess. Dark blue with those weird silver streaks he'd always had.
His eyes… they were his mother's eyes. But right now they were just big and dark. Full of the fear from the dream.
He looked like a ghost.
A scared little kid.
He hated it.
The feeling was hot and ugly in his chest.
He took a breath. A deep one. It felt shaky. His whole body was still trembling.
His fingers found the bottom of his thin pajama shirt. He stopped. His hand just rested there for a second.
Just get dressed, he thought. Pretend it's not there. Just for one day.
But he couldn't. He had to know.
He pulled the shirt up and over his head. The shirt fell to the floor.
He turned his back to the mirror.
He twisted his head to look. Over his shoulder.
And there it was.
In the dim morning light, it glowed.
A faint, soft blue. A slow pulse, like a quiet heart beating under his skin.
The mark.
It was shaped like wings. A stupid, cruel joke. They weren't real wings, of course. Just a crazy pattern of glowing blue lines, thin as thread. They twisted and turned all over each other, making a design that was… pretty, but felt wrong. So deeply, fundamentally wrong.
Usually, when he woke up, the glow was gone.
Just the dark lines were left. Like a tattoo. On his pale skin.
But after the bad dreams, the glow always stayed for a while.
The skin on his back was always warm. But right now, it felt hotter.
And there was a weird buzzing. A deep hum he could feel in his bones. A deep hum he could feel right down in his bones.
He reached a hand back. His fingers were shaking, but they found the glowing lines.
The skin was hot. And it was humming. A weird vibration that went up his arm and made him shiver.
He remembered something. A long time ago. He was little, maybe five or six. He'd asked his dad what the mark was.
His dad was a giant, a mountain of a man. But his face had gone pale. He knelt down, and his eyes were so serious it was scary.
"This is our secret, Kairen," he'd said, his voice a low rumble. "You must never show it to anyone. Ever. Do you understand?"
Kairen had just nodded. He never asked again.
A few years later, his dad was gone. The secret was just his, and his mom's.
He hated it.
He hated the way it looked. The way it felt. The questions it asked that he couldn't answer.
What is it? Why is it there? Why does it wake up after the nightmare?
It was the thing that made him different. A secret he had to hide, every single day.
He remembered one summer. At the town swimming hole. He'd jumped in, and his shirt had floated up. A couple of kids on the shore had stopped. Pointed. Their eyes were so wide.
The panic he felt then… it was so cold. So absolute. He thought he was going to drown right there.
He scrambled out of the water and just ran. All the way home. He never went back.
The blue glow flickered. Once. Twice. And then it was gone. It just retreated back under his skin, leaving the tingling warmth to fade away. He stared at the dark, twisting lines on his back for a moment longer.
The monster in his dreams. The monster on his back. They felt like two sides of the same terrible secret. A secret that was, night by night, trying to tear him apart.
He wanted to punch the mirror. He wanted to scream.
But he didn't. He was just… tired. So damn tired of it all.
A soft knock on the door.
He jumped.
His heart gave him a hard, painful thump.
He stumbled.
His hand grabbed the sink to stop him from falling.
"Kairen? Up yet? First day at the academy. Don't be late," his mother's voice said. It was gentle, but he could hear the worry in it. She always knew.
"I'm already up," he called back.
His throat felt tight. The words came out thin and Weak.
He saw his shirt on the floor. He grabbed it and pulled it on. He had to be quick. Before she came to the door.
The mark vanished. He felt like himself again. Or at least, the version of himself he showed to the world.
He splashed cold water on his face. It felt real. Safe. He looked into the mirror for one last time. The fear. It was still there. In his eyes. He looked away. It would have to be enough.
He opened the door. The smell of coffee and bacon hit him. It was warm and comforting.
For a second, the nightmare was gone.
His mother turned from the stove. A plate of pancakes was in her hand.
She tried to smile. But she was tired. The smile didn't get to her eyes.
"Excited?" she asked.
The word sounded strange. Like a word from a different language.
"Totally," he lied. The word came out flat. It felt dead in the air. He slid into his chair. He jabbed a pancake with his fork. "Can't wait."
Her smile was gone. "Not today, please."
"Sorry," he muttered, staring at his plate. "Bad night."
She sat down across from him. She held her coffee mug in both hands. "Nightmares again?" she asked. Her voice was soft.
He just nodded. He didn't look at her. He just stared at his plate. He cut his pancakes small pieces. The fork scraped against the plate.
"Nervous about school?"
"A little." A tiny lie, to cover a much bigger fear. His stomach twisted. a sudden sick knot. It was fear
Her own small smile returned. "Just a little? The great Kairen Zephyrwind, son of the legendary Torren, only a little scared?"
He smiled back, a weak, tired thing. "Okay. Fine. I'm scared."
"That's my boy," she said, her voice warm again. "That's brave, saying that."
"Dad wouldn't have been," he whispered.
Her smile left.
The warmth in her eyes was gone.
The room felt cold again.
She was quiet for a second. "On his first day at that school," she said softly, "he was sixteen. And he was so nervous, he was sick in the gardenia bushes out back."
His head snapped up. "What?"
"Yes," she said. Her voice was gentle, and a little sad. "He told me he felt like a fake," she said. "Like any minute, everyone was going to find out. Find out he wasn't the hero they all thought he was."
Kairen's eyes drifted to the living room. To the shrine on the fireplace. The medals. The staff. The memories of a hero.
"Everyone expects him," he said quietly. "But they'll get me instead."
"You are Kairen," she said, her voice suddenly strong. "That is more than enough."
"We can't afford it, Mom," he said, the worry cutting through him.
"It's a full scholarship. In honor of your father. Don't worry about money. Just eat." Her hands started fussing with his new backpack, zipping and unzipping the pockets. They were shaking.
"Mom? You okay?"
"Fine," she said, her smile fragile. "Just… a big day."
But he saw more in her eyes. It was fear. The same fear he saw whenever she accidentally saw his back.
"What is it?" he asked, putting his fork down. "What aren't you telling me?"
She grabbed a cloth. She started wiping the table.
But the table was already clean. "Nothing. I'm a mother. Worry is my job."
"No," he said quietly. "This is different. This is about the mark."
Her smile was gone. She froze. For a scary second, all he could see was her fear.
"Kairen," she whispered. Her voice was soft and shaky, scarier than any dream. "Promise me something." She leaned closer, Her eyes locked on his. "When you go to that school… be careful. They will push you. Test you. Try to see what you can do." Her voice dropped low. "Promise me you won't show anyone."