Kael did not remember leaving the temple.
One moment, darkness had swallowed him whole; the next, cold stone pressed against his cheek and the scent of damp earth filled his lungs. He groaned and pushed himself upright, blinking against the pale morning light filtering through broken rooftops.
He was back in the alley.
The abandoned temple loomed behind him, silent and lifeless once more, as if nothing unusual had ever happened within its walls. No glowing runes. No whispers. No shadow-beasts.
Except the grimoire was still in his hands.
Kael sucked in a sharp breath and nearly dropped it. The book felt heavier now, solid and real, its dark cover warm against his palms. The runes no longer glowed, but faint etchings pulsed beneath the surface, like embers buried under ash.
"It wasn't a dream…" he murmured.
A sudden sting shot through his left forearm.
Kael hissed and pulled back his sleeve. His breath caught.
Etched into his skin was a symbol — intricate, angular, and unmistakably magical. The same runes from the grimoire had branded themselves into him, forming a mark that seemed to shift when he stared at it too long.
Panic clawed at his chest.
Magic marks were dangerous. Recognizable. In Eryndor, being discovered with one could mean imprisonment… or worse.
"What did you do to me?" Kael whispered.
The answer came immediately, echoing inside his mind.
I bound myself to you.
Kael staggered back, nearly colliding with a crate. "Don't do that!" he snapped aloud, heart racing. "You can't just— just talk in my head!"
A low, amused hum resonated through his thoughts.
You will grow accustomed to it, Master.
Kael clenched his teeth. "Don't call me that."
Then prove yourself worthy of another title.
The grimoire's cover shifted, its pages fluttering open on their own. Symbols rearranged themselves, forming words Kael somehow understood despite never learning the language.
— Initiation Complete —
— Mana Vessel: Unrefined —
— Survival Probability: Low —
Kael stared. "Low?!"
You are weak, the voice said bluntly. Untrained. Hunted, whether you realize it or not.
"Hunted?" Kael's pulse quickened. "By who?"
The pages went blank.
That silence frightened him more than any answer.
Kael exhaled slowly and forced himself to think. Panicking wouldn't help. He tucked the grimoire beneath his cloak, hiding it against his chest, and glanced around the alley. The city was waking fully now. Footsteps echoed nearby. Voices carried on the air.
If anyone saw the mark—
He pulled his sleeve down tightly.
"I need food. A place to think," he muttered.
As he slipped back into the crowded streets, something felt… different. Sharper. He could hear heartbeats when people passed too close. Feel warmth radiating from living things. Even the air seemed thicker, humming with unseen currents.
Magic.
The realization sent a thrill — and fear — through him.
Suddenly, the grimoire spoke again, quieter this time.
You have taken your first step, Kael of Eryndor.
Kael swallowed, eyes hardening as he walked.
"Then I won't waste it."
Above the city, unseen by mortal eyes, something ancient stirred — and somewhere far beyond Eryndor's walls, a presence turned its gaze toward him.
The world had begun to move.
And it would not stop.