The next morning, Haera awakens to a burning sensation.
Not pain — not exactly. But heat.
When she looks down at her shoulder, a symbol is there.
Faint, like ash beneath the skin.
A half-moon carved into a spiral, surrounded by three dots. It glows faintly when her fingers hover above it, like it knows she's awake.
It wasn't there yesterday.
It's not a birthmark.
It's a brand.
---
Cairos sees it the moment she walks into the hallway.
His expression darkens. "He's marked you."
"Who?"
"The Watcher."
---
According to the soul ledger, this only happens once per cycle — when a soul gets too close to unlocking its entire past.
When the pattern begins to collapse, the Watcher brands the soul to track it.
Not to kill it.
But to control it.
---
"I don't understand," Haera says.
Cairos leans against the wall, eyes closed. "He doesn't want you dead. He wants you obedient."
"Why me?"
"Because you're the only one who's ever remembered all the lives. Every piece. Every betrayal. Even the ones he erased."
---
Later that night, Haera returns to the soul ledger room alone.
The mark on her shoulder pulses — like a compass. Drawing her to something.
To someone.
She follows the hum through a door behind the ledger.
Down stairs carved into earth.
To a room she shouldn't know exists.
But she does.
Because she's been here before.
---
Inside, she finds a mural — faded and ancient. Covered in dust and moss. It depicts a woman in white, chained at the ankles, holding a candle against a great, watching eye.
Around her, figures bow — some with wings, some with crowns, and some with knives behind their backs.
At the bottom of the mural: the inscription,
> "When memory returns, the cage must fall."
---
Her fingers brush the edge of the wall.
And the mural blinks.
The painted eye opens.
A low voice floods the room, echoing from nowhere and everywhere at once.
> "Little flame. You burn too bright this time."
> "We gave you love. Rebirth. Pain to learn from. Yet still, you reach for more."
> "Must I chain you again?"
---
Haera's body shakes.
But her voice?
Steady.
"You chained the wrong girl."
---
The mural cracks — and through it, a gust of cold wind tears into the room.
On the floor where she stood, now rests a feather.
Silver. Glowing.
She picks it up.
And carved into its spine: a name she hasn't seen before.
> "Seraphiel."
---
She runs back to Cairos, trembling.
He sees the feather and drops to one knee, like instinct.
"That's his true name," he whispers. "The Watcher. The original one."
"You knew?"
"I suspected. But it's forbidden to speak it."
---
"Why?" she asks.
"Because if you say it three times, he wakes. Fully. And he will come for you."
---
That night, the feather hums under her pillow like a sleeping heart.
She dreams of a glass cage.
And inside it, a version of herself —
Screaming,
Pounding the walls,
Mouth moving —
But no sound.
Just one phrase:
> "Let me choose this time."