It wasn't a bruise, nor a scar. It was too perfect, too deliberate. Twisting lines that pulsed faintly, as if alive beneath her skin. I had seen symbols of binding and divine magic before, but this… this felt older. Colder. Something about it whispered danger.
She noticed my silence and glanced over at me.
"What is it?" she asked, her voice still soft with sleep.
I sat up slowly. "That mark. I saw something last night, but now… Auralia, what is that?"
Her expression froze for a fraction of a second—just long enough for me to notice. Then she turned fully toward me, pulling the sheet instinctively higher across her chest. But it was too late. The image was burned into my mind.
"I… I don't know exactly," she said, avoiding my gaze. "It appeared after… the temple. After I made sure you were safe."
There it was again—that same shade of guilt, barely veiled.
I reached out, gently pulling the blanket down so the mark was visible brushing my fingertips near it but not quite touching. I didn't know why, but part of me felt like it would burn.
"You made a deal."
It wasn't a question.
Auralia lowered her gaze. "To save you, Eiran. You were dying. They said there was no time."
I closed my eyes for a moment, heart heavy.
"And the price?"
She said nothing.
We sat there in silence, the sun rising steadily through the windows. Outside, the temple stirred with distant footsteps and hushed voices. But inside this room, everything was still—held in the quiet weight of the unspoken.
I opened my eyes again. "Whatever happens next… we face it together. Deal or not."
Her hand found mine. And this time, I felt the faintest thrum of energy beneath her skin—something that hadn't been there before.
Whatever this mark was… it had changed her.
And I would find out how. No matter the cost.
The day wore on quietly. Auralia and I stayed close, though there was a strange, unspoken tension between us now—something I felt every time her fingers brushed mine, every time I caught her eyes lingering on me, searching for something. Maybe reassurance. Maybe forgiveness.
I gave it freely. But the mark… the mark had settled into my thoughts like a splinter.
When Auralia left briefly with the child to help in the kitchens, I made my move.
The temple corridors were bright and humming with soft chants. I passed a pair of acolytes bowing in conversation and continued until I reached a quiet side hall filled with the scent of old incense and parchment. A silver-robed priest sat reading at a marble bench, his face lined with years of study.
I approached casually.
"Excuse me, Father," I said with a respectful nod. "I'm hoping to ask you something. Discreetly."
He looked up with sharp, intelligent eyes. "Discretion is a language we know well here, child."
I sat across from him, keeping my voice low. "Have you ever encountered divine marks? Symbols that appear on the skin after a pact or… encounter?"
He leaned back slightly, curiosity piqued. "Divine marks are rare, and dangerous. They bind the soul, not just the flesh. Often the result of bargains struck with beings far beyond mortal understanding. Why do you ask?"
I hesitated. "Someone I care about bears one. I don't believe they were fully informed of the cost."
The priest frowned. "There are many divine beings—benevolent and otherwise—who mark their chosen. But some… some are cunning. The Adrossi, for instance, leave marks laced with shadow. Foul gods, long cast from the pantheon. Their symbols corrupt slowly. Hidden until the binding is permanent."
My jaw tightened.
"What do they look like?" I asked.
"Twisted, geometric, as if the shape itself resists being understood. They are often placed close to the heart."
Exactly where hers was.
The priest saw the change in my expression. "This is not a matter to keep quiet about, child. If you know someone who bears such a mark, it must be brought to the high priest's attention at once."
I stood, offering a respectful bow. "Thank you. I will speak with them."
But even as I said the words, I knew I wouldn't. Not yet.
Auralia had made the bargain to save me. Whatever this mark was doing, whatever it would become—I would find a way to stop it before it could hurt her. I owed her that much.
As I left the priest behind, my thoughts churned like a storm.
She had saved my life.
Now I would save hers.