The shrine trembled again.
Kael's heart raced as fragments of stone rained down from above. The faint shimmer on his palm began to pulse—faster, stronger. Each beat echoed with an emotion not entirely his own: fear… and fury.
Mira extinguished the lantern and pulled him deeper into the shadows. "The Inquisition," she whispered. "We need to move. Now."
"Inquisition?" Kael barely breathed the word. "Why would they be here?"
"Because Soulmarked blood was spilled. They felt the surge the moment your power awakened. That's how they track us."
Kael glanced toward the steps leading out of the shrine. Heavy footsteps echoed closer—three, maybe four armored soldiers descending with practiced precision. The infamous Crimson Inquisition: hunters of heresy, enforcers of the Empire's will, and executioners of the Soulmarked.
Mira tugged him toward a cracked wall behind the altar. She pressed her fingers against ancient carvings, and with a soft groan, a hidden passage opened.
"A smuggler's route," she said. "Old escape path from the Purge era. It'll take us through the cliff's root tunnels. Not safe—but safer than dying here."
But Kael wasn't listening.
The glow on his palm had intensified, casting a faint light into the dark. His ears rang with something else now—voices. Whispering in a tongue he didn't know, yet understood.
"They are not ready for you."
"Let the fire remember."
"Become the Flame, or be consumed."
Kael clutched his head, stumbling.
"Kael!" Mira's voice cut through the trance. "Move!"
He nodded, forcing his legs to obey.
Just as they slipped into the tunnel, the shrine doors burst open with a thunderous boom.
A bolt of red lightning struck the stone floor where they had stood moments ago. The blast sent shards flying. One of them sliced Kael's cheek, drawing blood.
He gritted his teeth, and something stirred inside him again.
---
Beneath the Mountain
The tunnel was suffocatingly narrow, filled with cobwebs and the scent of forgotten death. Roots twisted down from the ceiling, and old bones crunched beneath their steps.
"Where does this lead?" Kael asked, his voice hoarse.
"To the Hollow," Mira replied. "A hidden village. Off-grid. Soulmarked sympathizers and outcasts. It's where we regroup."
"We?"
She glanced at him, hesitation flickering in her eyes. "There are others. Like you. Some newly awakened, others trained since birth. We've been waiting for the signs. And your awakening… it may have started the chain."
Kael remained silent. He didn't feel like a hero, or a chosen one. He felt like a boy being hunted, who had just burned part of his village and nearly collapsed under the weight of voices in his head.
Suddenly, the tunnel split.
Before Mira could speak, a shriek echoed from the left path—a distorted, inhuman cry that chilled Kael's spine. A flicker of movement darted in the dark.
"What was that?" he asked, drawing back.
"Wraithspawn," Mira said grimly. "Not all darkness serves the Empire. Some... feast on awakened blood."
"Perfect," Kael muttered. "Monsters from both sides."
Mira lit a new flame in her palm—blue this time—and held it forward. "Stay behind me. If we don't make it through the Hollow Gate before sunrise, they'll pick up our scent."
Kael clenched his fists. His scar burned
again. This time, he welcomed it.
He would not be prey forever.