Darkness gripped him again.
Kael thrashed in his sleep, caught in the grip of another nightmare.
Flames licked the sky. Screams echoed across a broken village. Blood soaked the dirt. He stood helpless as monsters poured through a blackened rift, their eyes glowing like dying stars.
His mother—burned.
His sisters—shredded by claws.
He reached for them, but something held him back. Chains of shadow wrapped around his limbs. At the center of it all stood a figure cloaked in black flame.
Maldrak.
Its voice coiled through Kael's skull like smoke.
> "You survived me, little ember. But I am not done with you. You carry my mark."
Kael screamed.
---
He woke gasping for breath, his hand clutching his chest.
The mark burned—not from heat, but from something deeper. His mana churned violently, wild and untamed, like it wanted to tear out of him.
Footsteps approached.
The door opened, and standing there were Velia and Harven Lyre.
Kael didn't say a word. He didn't need to. They had seen the signs.
Velia crossed her arms, wind fluttering around her sleeves.
"You felt it again," she said.
Kael nodded, voice hoarse. "He was in my dream. Watching. Speaking."
Harven stepped further into the room, his expression grim. "That's no dream. That's contact."
Kael looked at them sharply. "So you knew."
"We did," Velia said. "From the moment you walked through our gates. That mark on your chest isn't just decoration. It's the Touch of Maldrak."
Kael clenched his fists. "What does it want from me?"
"Nothing yet," Harven said. "That's how it begins. Quiet. Dormant. But it's not idle."
Velia added, "The Touch is a tether. A fragment of Maldrak's will buried in your soul. It lets him find you. It lets him whisper. And if you ever break—if you ever give in to fear or rage—he'll use it."
Kael looked down, breathing hard. "I won't give in."
Harven didn't look convinced. "You say that now. So did others."
Velia stepped closer, her eyes unreadable.
"We've seen this before. The mark feeds on your emotions. Pain. Loss. Hatred. It grows stronger when you're weakest. It offers power when you're desperate. And if you take it… it changes you."
Kael's hands trembled slightly. Not from fear—but from the weight of what he now carried.
"I've felt something inside me," he admitted. "Like there's a door I don't want to open."
Harven's voice dropped to a cold whisper.
"Remember what we said before we agreed to train you."
"If we ever feel you're corrupted—"
"You'll be the first to kill me," Kael finished. "I remember."
Velia's expression softened—just slightly. "Good. Because this mark—it doesn't vanish. You live with it. You resist it. Every day. Forever."
Kael met her gaze. "Then I'll resist it."
Harven stared at him for a long moment, then gave a single nod.
"Then you might survive this."
---
Later that night, Kael sat alone outside the Lyre estate, beneath the rustling windchimes. The moon hung high, silver and silent.
He looked down at his hand, feeling the quiet pulse of the mark beneath his skin.
A claim.
A curse.
A challenge.
He would carry it. Not because he chose to—but because no one else could.
And no matter what Maldrak whispered in the dark…
Kael Morric would remain Kael Morric.