The old man's smile was a blade wrapped in velvet.
It wasn't the smug grin of a teacher who knew something you didn't, nor the empty pleasantries of a stranger. It was soft. Nostalgic. Like he'd just been reunited with a long-lost friend.
"Come, little one," he said gently. "Let's talk."
Kael, still reeling from everything,his transformation, his sister's death, the impossible revelations,nodded without a word. There was something in the man's presence. A weightless authority. Not forced, not loud. But undeniable.
They walked in silence, the air thick with the scent of moss and bark. A clearing opened ahead, bathed in the pale glow of the full moon. The wind moved through the leaves like it was breathing.
With a flick of the old man's wrist, the earth itself obeyed. Gnarled roots erupted from the soil, twisting into the shape of two chairs, their backs arched like the ribs of some long-buried beast. The old man gestured for Kael to sit.
Kael hesitated. But then he sat.
They faced the moon, its silver light reflected in the old man's tired eyes.
"You must have questions," he said, still smiling. "Ask away."
Kael frowned. The old man's familiarity was disarming. Not forced. Almost… familial.
"Are you…" Kael hesitated. "Are you the masked man who saved me?"
The response was immediate. "No."
"Then who are you?"
The old man stroked his chin, lost in a moment of thought. "An insignificant witness of time," he said at last. "Once, I was something more. Once, I walked by the side of a man I admired more than anything. Just as you had a sister, I had a brother. A man I adored. A man who stood for something. But time..." His voice grew quiet. "Time is a cruel butcher. It cuts deep and leaves rot where memory once lived. My brother is gone. And worse, so is everything he meant."
Kael's brow furrowed. The words were heavy, layered with meaning he didn't yet understand.
"I don't really get what you're saying. Do you even have a name?"
The old man laughed, low, genuine. "Ahh, yes. It's been so long since someone asked me that. These days, the only ones who find me are my blood. And to them, I am simply 'Grandpa.'"
He turned his eyes back to the moon. "But I did have a name once. It was Oren. Oren Verde."
The name hung in the air like mist. Something about it stirred something deep in Kael, though he couldn't say why.
"I remember the masked man helping me. Then… nothing. I woke up to a girl who beat me up and… why would someone go around in a mask like that, wearing something so... eerie?"
Oren chuckled. "Why does anyone wear a mask, boy? To protect something. Their identity. Their past. Or maybe just their face. As for the beating up part ,maybe you needed it more than you know."
Kael bit his lip. That wasn't a real answer.
"Why did you bring me here? Why not just leave me… with her body?"
Oren's smile faded. His eyes drifted down toward Kael's hand. "Look," he said simply, pointing to the mark etched into Kael's skin.
"This thing? I don't know what it is," Kael said. "Is it… a stigmata? Like the ones the people from noble houses have?"
"Before I answer, tell me," Oren said, voice even. "What do you know about stigmatas?"
Kael shrugged. "Not much. Just that… u need a stigmata's power to close rifts when there's too much aether in the atmosphere. The noble houses pass them down to their heirs, right?"
Oren leaned back. "Right… and wrong. What you carry isn't just a stigmata. It's one of the Seven. The primals. The Devourer."
Kael blinked. "Wait… what?"
"The stigmata you bear was lost nearly two centuries ago," Oren continued. His voice had changed. No longer gentle. It was the sound of a historian recounting a tragedy. "The day the others came for it, over two thousand souls perished. Men. Women. Children. Anything that breathed and stood too close. That cursed mark of yours has killed more people in a single day than most wars. And it was lost when the first bearer died after that day."
Kael swallowed. Hard.
"And over the next hundred years," Oren went on, "they erased it. Every record. Every mention. Every whisper. Vanished from history like it never existed."
The air grew heavier. The forest around them seemed to tremble, as if the trees themselves remembered the weight of that day.
"Why do I have it then?" Kael's voice cracked. "Why me? You said it was lost! Then how the hell did I end up with it? How do I get rid of it?!"
Oren raised a hand , not gently, but with a sudden edge. The warmth in his voice vanished, replaced by a command that cut through the air like steel.
'Enough,' he said.
Kael fell silent, heart pounding.
"I'll answer. But first, I'll ask you three questions. After that, you can do whatever you want."
Kael bit back the panic clawing at his throat. He needed answers. "Fine."
Oren nodded. "First question. If you were free to leave this place… what would you do?"
Kael didn't hesitate. "I'd hunt down everyone responsible for what happened to my sister. And I'd kill them."
Oren raised an eyebrow. "Even your stepmother?"
Kael froze. "What?"
"She was there. She orchestrated more than you think. And she's far more powerful than you know, even more than the gangs and monsters you're imagining."
Kael clenched his fists. The humiliation was sharp. He knew he was too weak to take down the filth that had orchestrated her death, at least for now,but with time, he could train. He could fight.
But his stepmother? That didn't make any sense. She had always remained distant… cold;
Powerful? The idea was laughable.
Yet Oren spoke of her like she was a storm waiting to drown him.
A cold knot twisted in his gut. How much had he missed? How much had been hidden behind the bland mask of a woman he'd never thought twice about? And if she was dangerous, what did that make his father?
"What's your second question?" he muttered.
Oren's tone turned grave, like stone grinding against stone. "How determined are you to make them pay? Even if it means going against the world itself? Even if the ones you must face are more than human?"
Kael met his eyes. "Even if there's a god behind it all, I'll kill the god, and all the gods who knew about it."
There was no hesitation. Just fire in his eyes.
Oren laughed. It wasn't mocking. It was joyous.
"A god, huh?" he grinned. "Gods are long dead. All that's left are devils wearing their skin."
The laughter faded. Oren leaned forward, expression shadowed with something heavier.
"Final question."
Kael felt it before it came. The weight.
"How much do you know… about your family?"