The stone corridor finally widened, and cold, damp air rushed toward them, carrying with it the scent of moss and age. After hours of crawling through pitch-black tunnels with only Mira's blue flame to guide them, Kael stumbled out into a vast underground cavern—an impossible world hidden beneath the mountain.
Above them, glowing crystals pulsed like stars embedded in the cavern ceiling, casting a soft, ethereal light over a network of wooden platforms, bridges, and homes built into the rock. Waterfalls trickled down the jagged walls, feeding streams that snaked through the village like living veins.
Kael stared in awe. "This… is the Hollow?"
Mira smiled, though her eyes scanned the shadows warily. "Home. For now."
People began to emerge. Not many—perhaps a few dozen—but each one bore signs of hardship: lean bodies, sharp eyes, and old scars. Some wore enchanted cloaks, others carried weapons unlike anything Kael had seen—blades forged of crystal and bone, bows strung with runes.
One man stepped forward—tall, broad-shouldered, with a long scar running across his jaw. His left eye glowed faintly orange, like embers.
"Mira," he greeted, voice deep and edged with authority. "You were supposed to return alone."
She gestured to Kael. "Plans changed. He awakened."
The man's expression darkened. "Then the Empire will already be on our trail."
Kael stepped forward despite his exhaustion. "I didn't choose this. I didn't even know what I was until yesterday."
"No one chooses to be Soulmarked," the man said. "But once awakened, you have a responsibility—to yourself, and to those who will die if we don't rise."
Mira intervened. "Kael needs rest. And answers. Not threats."
The man grunted, then nodded. "Fine. Bring him to the Seer."
---
The Seer's Vision
Kael followed Mira up a winding stair carved into the cavern wall. At the top stood a simple hut covered in vines and crystals, humming with quiet energy. Inside, a fire burned in a suspended bowl of silver, and beside it sat an old woman—skin like folded parchment, eyes clouded by cataracts but glowing faintly violet.
She smiled as Kael entered. "So, the last spark has awakened."
Kael hesitated. "You know me?"
"I've seen you," she said. "In the flames, in the echoes. Your soul burns brighter than most. And more chaotically."
He sat down across from her. "What am I?"
"You are Soulmarked," she said softly. "But not just any. Your mark is ancient—older than the Empire. Tied to the First Flame. A power once thought lost."
Kael frowned. "Everyone says that like it means something. But I don't feel powerful. I feel hunted. Broken."
The Seer reached across the fire, her fingers brushing his palm.
Immediately, his scar lit up—and visions flooded his mind.
He saw burning cities, skies torn open by firestorms, warriors wreathed in elemental fury. A child standing before a crumbling tower, eyes glowing gold. A shadow in the shape of a man, cloaked in blood and flame.
Then darkness.
Kael gasped, jerking his hand back. Sweat beaded on his brow.
"What… what was that?"
"Your future," the Seer said. "One of many. If you survive the path ahead."
Mira placed a hand on his shoulder. "You're not alone anymore, Kael."
But even as those words settled over him, Kael couldn't shake the image of the burning tower… or the voice he had heard inside it:
"The Soulmarked must rise, or all shall fall."