The rune throbs before me. Each vibration runs under my skin, down into my ruined tongue. I want to speak, to scream—but nothing comes. Only a rasp, cut short.
— Hurry. The shadows haven't given up, the figure whispers behind me. You feel it?
I nod. My hands tremble. I raise the shard of glass, hesitate. The misted gate behind us fades, but voices seep through—groans, inhuman rattle.
— You're still bleeding, the figure murmurs. You won't last if you give more to the Mark.
I scrape a crooked circle onto the rune. My tongue burns, blood rising bitter in my mouth. The Mark quivers inside, starved.
— No, not that! You'll let it devour you whole!
I recoil. My arm refuses to rise again. I scrawl clumsy lines on the floor, an unfinished rune. I point at the figure, questions raw in my eyes.
— You need another sacrifice. Not voice. Not flesh. This one wants… a promise.
My brow furrows. I mime a lock, then a key. He understands, sighs.
— The Mark loves debts—you know that. I've heard of bearers paying with their future. A vow. A pact. But you have to say it aloud.
I grit my teeth. Impossible. I have no voice. Only this seared rasp, this searing ache.
— Try inside your head, he orders. But beware: every word becomes truth to it.
I shut my eyes. Think hard: "I give tomorrow's memories if the door opens." The rune pulses, the shard quakes in my hand.
My mind empties at once. No plans, no images of what comes next. A blank gulf. I stagger. The figure catches me.
— What did you do? You sold yourself to forgetting?
I shrug, grimace. The rune throbs—once, twice. The gate creaks open, panting like a beast disturbed.
Footsteps behind. The shadows, closer. Fingers brush the mist.
— Move! No time to think, the figure urges.
I cross the threshold. The Mark whispers in my skull, hungrier than ever.
— Feel it? the figure pants. You feel what it takes? It isn't over.
I stumble onward. A spiral stair plunges below. The air is heavy, damp, saturated with rancid flesh.
One last glance at the gate. Mist falls. Shadows slam the rune, furious.
Inside my skull: a vast hollow. Tomorrow gone. Only fear. Only exhaustion. Only the Mark coiling tight.
— One day it'll claim everything, the figure mutters low.
Down the stair, another rune glows in the dark. And the Mark, laughing, promises:
"One more step… one more price."