The rain hadn't stopped since last night.
Kael sat on the porch steps, his tunic sticking to his skin, the faint glow of the mark on his chest hidden beneath the damp cloth. Every time the thunder rolled, it felt like the sound came from somewhere deeper — not just the sky, but the earth itself.
Liora stood inside the doorway, arms crossed."You're going to catch fever if you keep sitting there like a brooding statue."
Kael didn't answer at first. His fingers brushed absently at the spot over his heart. The mark still felt warm, like a coal under the skin.
Liora sighed and came out anyway, holding a steaming bowl."Here," she said, pressing it into his hands. "If you won't come in, at least eat."
He took the bowl without looking at her."You're quiet today," she said after a moment.
"I had a dream," Kael said finally.
"Oh?" Liora raised an eyebrow. "Was I in it?"
He almost smiled. "No."
"Then it must have been a nightmare."
Before Kael could reply, the sound of hooves cut through the rain. Both of them turned as a rider appeared on the road — cloaked, hood drawn low, the horse's breath steaming in the chill air.
"Who rides in this weather?" Liora muttered.
Kael rose to his feet, setting the bowl aside. The rider stopped in the square, dismounted, and pulled back the hood — revealing a stranger with a scar across one cheek and eyes that scanned the village like he was counting every soul.
"Where's the elder?" the man asked, his voice sharp.
Liora frowned. "Who's asking?"
"Messenger," the man said shortly. His gaze shifted to Kael and lingered for a moment too long.
Kael felt it then — that same pulse from the forest, but stronger, as though the stranger carried a fragment of it inside him.
The elder soon arrived, shuffling through the mud, his cane tapping softly."You've ridden far," he said to the stranger. "What news?"
"Storms to the east. Villages gone missing." The messenger's tone was flat, but there was a shadow behind his words. "Tracks leading into the Void."
At that word, the square grew quiet. Even the rain seemed to fall softer.
"No one goes near the Void," the elder said grimly.
"They didn't go near it," the messenger said. "They were taken."
A murmur rippled through the gathered villagers. Liora's hand brushed Kael's arm, but he didn't look at her. His eyes were locked on the messenger — because under the man's cloak, just for a moment, he saw the faint glow of a mark.
The same mark that burned on his chest.
That night, Kael couldn't sleep. The rain still drummed on the roof, but all he could hear was the messenger's voice.
Taken.
His hand curled over his chest. The mark felt hotter than ever, almost throbbing now, like it was trying to answer something far away.
When he finally did sleep, he dreamed again — but this time the voice was clearer, closer.
"Kael," it whispered."The wind has turned. Choose your path before they choose it for you."
He woke with a start, breath ragged, and in the darkness, the mark flared like a red star.