The grass bent beneath Levi's feet as he shifted, arms crossed, gaze flicking between the sky and the treetops, as if he still didn't trust them not to vanish. Every part of him felt wired for retreat, for collapse, for the sudden reversal of fortune. As if any moment now, someone would call his name—not softly, not like Thane—but sharp, cruel, dragging him back.
But no one did.
Only the wind answered. And Thane, still beside him, hands tucked behind his back, eyes steady and unreadable.
Levi broke the quiet first. "I don't have to stay here."
Thane gave a small nod. "That's right."
Levi didn't look at him. "Then where would I go?"
Thane hesitated for the first time since they stepped into the clearing. Not out of doubt. Out of something heavier. Like the next words mattered.
"There's a place in the capital," Thane said. "A school."
Levi's laugh was hollow. "That a joke?"
"No."
"I'm not some bright-eyed noble brat with clean hands and a family crest."
"I know," Thane said quietly. "Neither was I."
Levi blinked, thrown. "What?"
Thane's eyes didn't leave him. "I wasn't born with armor and magic and a title. I wasn't born into anything but fire and silence. Same as you. Cages. Orders. Pain made holy."
Levi didn't speak. Just watched him. Watched the lines at the corners of his eyes shift, just slightly.
"I got out," Thane said. "Not clean. Not whole. But enough. And someone found me. Saw what was left and didn't flinch. They didn't just patch me up and set me loose—they gave me a place to learn. Gave me a name I didn't have to be ashamed of."
Levi's voice came low, wary. "And now you're returning the favor?"
"No," Thane said. "Now I'm doing what I wished someone had done sooner."
He stepped a little closer, but still didn't crowd him.
"I don't work for the Mage Knights. Not exactly. I train the ones that come after."
Levi's brow furrowed. "You're a teacher?"
"At the central academy. One of the senior ranks."
"You're telling me," Levi said slowly, "that the guy who slept on stone beside me for two months teaches elite mage soldiers?"
Thane's mouth curved into the faintest ghost of a smile. "I learn more from people like you than I ever did in a tower."
Levi didn't respond.
The wind rustled through the tall grass. A breeze caught a branch overhead, sending sunlight flickering across Thane's face. He didn't blink.
"I have a place there," he said. "A post. An apartment above the training halls. Space for two."
Levi's chest tightened.
Thane continued, voice calm but not impersonal. "You'd enroll as a late candidate. No oath, no sponsor. My name would vouch for you. You'd train when you can. Rest when you must. And when you're ready—take your license."
Levi stared at him. "License for what?"
"Hunting. Guard work. Enchanting. Courier magic. Anything the kingdom pays for."
Thane's gaze sharpened. "With a licensed badge, you can work the towns. Get access to records. Hire scouts. Whisper into the right ears."
Levi's mouth was dry. "You're saying… I could pay someone to find them?"
"Yes."
Levi took a step back. The grass swayed with him.
"And what if I don't want to join your war school?" he said bitterly.
"Then you walk away. No chains. No collars. But if you stay," Thane added, "you get a bed. You get food. You get trained. And you get a future you control."
Levi's jaw flexed.
He didn't answer right away. The trees kept shifting around them. The light kept filtering through.
For a long moment, all Levi could do was breathe.
Then: "Why me?"
"Because you survived," Thane said. "And you still know how to bleed without becoming what bled you."
Levi swallowed.
The idea of buildings, of stone halls and fire-lit windows, of spell runes and scrolls and maps—it felt impossible. Like walking into a story someone else wrote.
He wanted to laugh.
But what came out instead was a whisper.
"…I don't know how to live in places like that."
Thane nodded. "Then I'll show you."
That was it.
Not a promise of ease.
Just a promise that he wouldn't do it alone.
And for now—that was enough.
Levi didn't say yes.
Not yet.
But he didn't say no, either.
The decision didn't come all at once.
Levi didn't wake up the next day and say yes. He didn't shake Thane's hand or pack a bag with trembling hope.
Instead, he moved through the camp like a ghost.
Each morning, he sat under the trees and watched the mist burn off the grass. He didn't speak to anyone unless Thane made him. He flinched at loud noises. His hand twitched near his ribs when someone walked too close.
But he breathed.
He ate when he could. Drank. Stretched his legs. Walked the edge of the clearing until the guards stopped watching him like he might bolt.
The others—survivors, mostly older—gave him space. One woman tried to hand him a fresh roll one morning. He didn't take it. But he nodded once. That was all she needed.
Three days passed.
Then Thane gave him a bundle.
Not armor. Not a robe.
Just clothes. Plain, stitched. A satchel. A pass.
And boots.
Not heavy ones. Not soldier's boots. Soft ones. Made for walking roads and halls.
"Caravan leaves tomorrow," Thane said.
Levi didn't respond.
He waited until dusk, then went to the creek that ran just beyond the treeline. Sat in the grass with the boots beside him, staring at the water for what felt like hours. His reflection stared back—faded, unfamiliar. His hair had grown. His face was leaner. Harder. But there was something else in his eyes now. Not just fire.
Memory. And want.
That night, he sat by Thane at the fire and whispered, "If I go… it's not forever."
"No," Thane said. "Just far enough."
Levi nodded.
The next morning, when the cart rolled into the camp—pulled by a gentle horse with eyes like the sea—Levi was already dressed.
Boots on.
Pack slung.
The pass tucked into the satchel, signed by Thane himself.
He didn't say goodbye to the camp. He didn't look back.
But when he climbed into the cart beside Thane, he did whisper one thing under his breath—so soft it vanished into the wind.
"I'm coming for you, Mom. Kaan. Just hold on."
And the cart rolled forward—out of the clearing, into the trees, and toward a life Levi wasn't ready for.
But he was going anyway.
...
The road out of the forest was slow.
The cart bumped over roots and stones, but Levi didn't mind. He kept one hand curled around the edge of the wooden seat, the other resting over the satchel pressed to his side. Thane sat beside him, quiet as ever, gaze fixed forward like he already saw the school on the horizon.
They didn't speak much that first hour.
Levi's eyes flicked between the trees—wide, tall, green beyond belief. His mind tried to match them with memories of cracked sand and scorched rock, but it was like comparing dreams to scars.
The road out of the forest wound like a slow breath.
The cart groaned beneath its load, rocking gently with each uneven turn. Wheels dipped into soft ruts, creaked over stones, but neither passenger spoke. Levi sat near the back corner of the cart, arms tucked in tight, satchel clutched in his lap like armor. One knee bounced slightly, not from nerves—at least not ones he could name. Just motion. Just habit.
The trees had thinned behind them.
Ahead lay only open land—rolling fields, tall grass, sky.
Too much sky.
It stretched above them like a mouth waiting to swallow him whole. Blue and wide and uncaring. No ceiling. No cover. The breeze cut sideways through the cart, brushing over his skin like an invitation he didn't trust.
Thane sat beside him, still and silent. He didn't press. Didn't pry. He just watched the horizon with that same distant focus, like the road they followed wasn't just dirt and stone but something older—etched in memory.
Levi tugged his sleeves down without thinking.
But the cloth around his forearm had already begun to fray.
A slow tear had started the day before, a thread unraveling like a loose thought. He hadn't fixed it. He meant to—but there had always been something else to look at. Something else to survive.
Another jolt rocked the cart.
The wrap snagged on the jagged edge of the wooden slat beneath his leg.
He felt the tug—then heard the soft, traitorous rip.
Levi jerked forward instinctively, pulling at the bandage, trying to save what was left.
Too late.
The cloth tore free.
It fluttered once in the wind before the wheels rolled over it with a soft crunch.
He froze.
His bare forearm caught the light.
The mark—black, inky, coiled like living script—gleamed in the sun.
It wasn't glowing. But it didn't need to.
It pulsed.
Just once.
Like it knew.
Levi stared at it. Jaw tight. Every muscle locked.
He reached for the satchel, fumbling, trying to find something—anything—to cover it again.
Thane's voice broke the silence.
"Don't bother."
Levi looked up, tense. "It's not safe."
"No," Thane agreed calmly. "But it's not exactly obvious, either. I've seen the types in the capital. Half the students are walking around with tattoos and cursed charms they bought off back-alley mages."
Levi blinked.
"…You're saying it looks like a tattoo?"
Thane shrugged. "A weird one, sure. But you pull your sleeve halfway down, roll it like you meant for people to see it, and you don't flinch when they do? No one'll blink twice. You'll just look like trouble."
Levi gave him a skeptical look.
Thane smiled faintly. "And the school's got plenty of that already."
Levi looked down at the mark again.
It really did look like a tattoo now, in the light. Something strange but sharp—spidery, iridescent in places, like it had been drawn with ink from a different world. He tilted his wrist slightly, watching how it caught the sun. How it shimmered. How it didn't glow like something dangerous—but settled like something permanent.
Like a part of him.
Not a curse.
Not yet.
"You really think people won't ask?"
"They will," Thane said. "So you lie. Tell them it's something stupid. A dare. A blood rite. A mistake you don't regret."
Levi was quiet for a long time.
Then he smirked. Just barely.
"I don't lie well."
"You'll get better."
Levi leaned back against the side of the cart, folding his arm across his chest with the mark still visible. The wind brushed over it again—cool, not cruel.
He didn't feel safer.
But he didn't feel hunted either.
Not at this moment.
And for someone who'd grown up in chains, that was enough.
But Levi wasn't looking at the view anymore.
His gaze had settled on his arm again.
The mark shimmered once in the shifting light, then stilled.
It didn't hurt right now. It just existed—like something waiting.
"What's a blood rite?" he asked suddenly.
Thane didn't look surprised. Just glanced at him once, then returned his gaze to the road.
"It depends," he said. "In some places, it's a ritual. You trade pain for power. Carve a symbol, make a vow, bind it with blood. Sometimes it's sacred. Sometimes it's criminal."
Levi's brow furrowed. "So… anyone can do it?"
"Not quite. You need mana. Intent. A strong enough will to carry it through. And even then, it doesn't always work. Some people die trying."
Levi exhaled through his nose. "That sounds stupid."
"It is," Thane said. "But power makes people reckless."
They sat in silence for a beat.
Then Levi asked, "What about the other kinds?"
Thane turned slightly. "Magic?"
"Yeah. All of it. I only ever saw bits. Fireballs, healing, floating lights. But people talk about it like it's—" he shook his head, "—bigger."
"It is," Thane said simply. "Magic's broken into a few core veins. Some are born into it. Some learn it. Some steal it."
Levi frowned. "What do you mean, born into it?"
"Some bloodlines pass magic down. Old families. Or cursed ones. Abilities carried like names. They don't always show in children, but when they do—it's instinctive. Wild. Like breathing."
Levi looked down at his arm again.
Thane followed his gaze. "That might be one of them. If it's old enough."
"What else?"
"There's elemental—fire, wind, water, earth. Usually learned. Structured."
"Like reading from a book?"
Thane nodded. "Scripted spells. Runes. Enchantments. You study. Memorize. Some people chant. Others draw. The more talented ones don't need either."
"And curses?"
Thane's mouth thinned slightly. "Dangerous. Rare. Usually forbidden. Twisting a person's soul or binding magic into flesh. Most of the time, it ends badly—for the caster or the cursed."
Levi traced the edge of the mark with his thumb. "Could this be a curse?"
Thane didn't answer right away.
"I've seen curses," he said eventually. "This doesn't feel like one."
"What does it feel like?"
"Something waiting."
Levi's chest tightened. "That's not better."
"No," Thane agreed. "But it's not worse."
The cart rolled on.
Levi's thoughts churned quietly, folding over each other like wind-blown paper.
Finally, he asked, "What about books that change you? I heard about one—back in Bone Hollow. A guy touched a spellbook and started bleeding from the eyes."
Thane huffed softly. "That wasn't the book. That was a trap charm. Some books are alive, sure. Some bite back. But most just carry instructions. The danger's in the reader, not the pages."
Levi leaned back again. "Sounds like the whole thing's a mess."
Thane smiled faintly. "It is. But it's a mess worth understanding."
They went quiet again.
The breeze shifted. A bird cut across the sky, wings wide, catching the wind above them.
Levi glanced at his arm once more—at the mark, dark and quiet.
"Do you think I'm one of those born types?" he asked.
"I think," Thane said, "that whatever you are—whoever you are—it didn't start the day you were branded, or the day you killed, or even the day you escaped."
Levi looked at him.
"It started the day you screamed your first breath into a cell that never expected you to live."
Levi didn't answer.
But he didn't look away either.
And this time, when the cart dipped into a shadowed bend in the road, the light on his arm didn't vanish.
It shimmered—just a little.
Still there.
Still his.
The cart continued to creak over the uneven road, rattling gently beneath them. The sun had begun to lean west, casting long shadows across the tall grass as they passed. Insects clicked somewhere in the fields. The world was too quiet for Levi's comfort—no cries, no metal, no commands. Just the steady rhythm of wheels on dirt and the low breath of wind moving through open space.
His fingers brushed the mark again.
Still visible.
Still his.
After a long stretch of silence, Levi spoke—low, like it might be dangerous to say aloud.
"What could it be?"
Thane didn't answer right away.
Levi turned his head. "The mark."
Thane's eyes were still on the horizon, but they narrowed faintly. "You said it appeared when you were born."
"Yeah." Levi shifted, elbow braced on the cart rail. "My mother said I didn't breathe. Not at first. She thought I was stillborn. Cold. Quiet."
He glanced down at the mark.
"It showed up right here. Middle of my forearm. And the moment it did, I screamed."
Thane's brows knit, just slightly. His hands remained relaxed on his knees, but there was a stillness to him now. One that hadn't been there before.
Levi went on, slower now. "She said it was like I'd been claimed. Like something had pulled me back when no one else could."
"And it's always been like that?" Thane asked. "Black? Shifting?"
"Sometimes it hurts," Levi admitted. "Burns. Not all the time. But before something bad happens? Yeah. It does."
Thane let that settle.
The cart rolled on.
Then he spoke—carefully.
"There are only a few kinds of marks that appear like that. Without ink. Without blade. Without invocation."
Levi waited.
"One is a blessing," Thane said. "A gift from a divine source. Rare. Usually tied to fate. There are old records—warriors born with golden eyes, healers with silver blood, all tied to marks no one gave them. They were chosen."
Levi's expression darkened. "Doesn't feel like a gift."
Thane's jaw flexed. "No. Because sometimes… blessings don't come from gods."
Levi turned to him fully now. "What does that mean?"
"There are devils," Thane said softly. "Not the loud, horned kind that people put on posters or in children's warnings. The old ones. The kind people forget how to fear because their names stopped being spoken."
Levi's pulse beat slower. "And you think one of them gave me this?"
"I think," Thane said, voice even, "that something saw you. In that cell. On that night. And it reached across the veil and gave you breath."
Levi stared at his arm.
The mark pulsed again. Not bright. But present.
"But why me?"
"I don't know."
Levi looked out across the fields. The sun was low now, and the capital—distant still—glowed faintly in its light. Spires caught gold. The buildings clustered like bones of an ancient beast, waiting.
"I'm not special," he muttered.
"Maybe not," Thane said. "But you survived what most can't. You carry something no one else does. That alone makes you dangerous. Or sacred. Or both."
Levi let the words settle.
The mark warmed slightly beneath his skin.
"Have you ever seen one like it?" he asked.
"Once," Thane said. "Years ago. Before I joined the academy."
Levi's breath hitched. "What happened to them?"
Thane's face went still. "They were hunted."
The cart creaked into another bend in the road.
Levi looked down at the capital again. It wasn't just a city. It was a test.
"So what now?" he asked.
"You learn," Thane replied. "You listen. You keep your head down, and when you're ready—you dig for answers."
Levi swallowed hard. His voice dropped to a whisper.
"And if I don't like what I find?"
Thane didn't hesitate. "Then you decide who to become, anyway."
The cart creaked on.
Levi didn't look away from the capital again.
And though the mark on his arm still burned, he decided to let it stay uncovered.