The warrior didn't move.
He stood a few steps away from Lira, half‑hidden in the moonlit shadows, his posture rigid, his hand resting near the hilt of the blade strapped to his back. His eyes — sharp, storm-dark, unblinking — stayed fixed on her glowing mark.
Lira felt exposed under his gaze, as if he could see straight through her skin, straight into the memories she didn't understand.
She swallowed hard. "Who are you?"
The warrior didn't answer immediately. He studied her, his jaw tightening, as though weighing whether she was a threat… or something worse.
Finally, he spoke. "Kael."
His voice was low, steady, and strangely calm — the kind of voice that belonged to someone who had seen danger too many times to fear it anymore.
Lira clutched her shoulder, covering the mark. "Why are you looking for me?"
"I wasn't," Kael said. "Not until I saw that."
He nodded toward her shoulder.
Lira's pulse quickened. "It's just a birthmark."
"No." His tone was firm, certain. "Birthmarks don't glow."
She flinched. He wasn't wrong.
Kael stepped closer, the moonlight catching the edges of his armor. He moved with the quiet precision of someone trained to kill without hesitation. Lira instinctively stepped back, her feet sinking into the soft riverbank.
"Don't," she whispered.
Kael stopped.
Not because she told him to — but because he was studying her again, as if trying to understand something he couldn't quite grasp.
"You're afraid," he said.
Lira's breath hitched. "Shouldn't I be?"
Kael didn't answer. Instead, he looked up at the sky, where the stars shimmered like scattered shards of glass.
"The prince's soldiers are searching the villages," he said. "They're looking for signs of the Starborn Child."
Lira's stomach twisted. "Why?"
"Because the prophecy says the Starborn will bring change." His gaze returned to her. "And change terrifies people in power."
Lira hugged her arms around herself. "I don't want to bring anything. I don't even know who I am."
Kael's expression softened — barely, but enough for her to notice.
"What do you remember?" he asked.
Lira hesitated.
She could lie. She could pretend she was just a confused girl with a strange mark. But something in Kael's eyes — the quiet intensity, the unspoken understanding — made her feel like he might actually listen.
"I remember… dying."
Kael's eyes widened, just slightly.
Lira continued, her voice trembling. "I remember a world made of metal and light. I remember machines. I remember… someone calling my name."
She pressed a hand to her chest, feeling the phantom ache of a life that no longer existed.
"But none of it belongs here," she whispered. "None of it makes sense."
Kael stared at her as if she had spoken a forbidden truth.
"You speak like someone touched by the Veil," he murmured.
"The Veil?"
He nodded. "The boundary between this world and the realm of spirits. Only seers and cursed ones cross it."
Lira's heart pounded. "I'm not cursed."
Kael didn't argue. But he didn't agree either.
Instead, he stepped closer — slowly this time, as if approaching a frightened animal.
"Let me see the mark."
Lira hesitated. Every instinct screamed to run, to hide, to protect the only clue she had about herself. But Kael's voice held no threat now — only curiosity, and something else she couldn't name.
She lowered her hand.
The star-shaped mark glowed faintly, pulsing like a heartbeat.
Kael inhaled sharply. "It's real."
"What does it mean?" Lira asked.
Kael shook his head. "I don't know. But the elders say the Starborn carries the light of the heavens. A sign of destiny."
Lira's voice cracked. "I don't want destiny."
Kael's gaze softened again — a flicker of empathy breaking through his stoic exterior.
"Destiny doesn't care what we want," he said quietly.
A chill ran down her spine.
Before she could respond, a distant horn echoed through the forest — sharp, urgent, unmistakable.
Kael stiffened. "Soldiers."
Lira's blood turned to ice. "They're coming here?"
"They're sweeping the villages," Kael said. "If they find you—"
He didn't finish.
He didn't need to.
Lira took a step back. "I have to go."
Kael grabbed her wrist — not roughly, but firmly enough to stop her.
"You won't make it alone," he said. "You don't know the forest. You don't know the kingdom. You don't know who to trust."
Lira's breath trembled. "Why should I trust you?"
Kael hesitated.
For the first time, uncertainty flickered in his eyes.
"You shouldn't," he admitted. "But I'm the only one here."
The horn sounded again, closer this time.
Kael released her wrist. "If they see your mark, they'll take you. Or kill you."
Lira's heart pounded so hard it hurt. "What do I do?"
Kael looked at her — really looked at her — as if making a decision that would change both their lives.
"Come with me," he said.
Lira froze.
Kael extended his hand, palm open, steady.
"I don't know what you are," he said. "But I know what they'll do if they find you."
The wind rustled through the trees.
The river whispered at their feet.
The soldiers' horn echoed again, closer, louder.
Lira stared at Kael's hand.
A stranger.
A warrior.
A man who could be her protector… or her doom.
But she had no time.
No answers.
No choice.
With a trembling breath, she placed her hand in his.
Kael closed his fingers around hers — warm, strong, grounding.
"Stay close," he said.
And together, they ran into the forest.