"A soul that defies death deserves another chance."
— ✦ —
Lior's hand throbbed where the faint symbol glowed on his skin. He flexed his fingers, testing the sensation, feeling the pulse of power beneath the surface.
Elder Thane studied him silently. "The mark is rare. It chooses those who survive the impossible. You must learn to hide it until you understand its purpose."
"I… I don't even know what it does," Lior admitted.
The old man nodded. "Then you'll learn. But first, you must regain your strength. You cannot face the plains unprepared."
Lior stood, still unsteady, and followed Thane toward the village. The cottages clustered around the central square, smoke curling lazily from chimneys. Children played by the well, tossing a worn leather ball and laughing. Life went on here, oblivious to the danger creeping beyond the hills.
Thane led him to a modest hut at the village edge. "This will be your home for now," he said. "Do not wander too far. The plains are not as forgiving as they appear."
Lior nodded, examining his reflection in a metal basin. His features were unfamiliar yet his memories remained. The scar on his cheek itched like a memory refusing to fade. He traced the line with his fingers, thinking of the life he'd left behind.
Dinner was simple: roasted root vegetables, fresh bread, and a small portion of stew. Thane spoke little, but his gaze measured every movement. Lior found himself hungry not just for food but for understanding.
"What happens now?" he asked finally.
"You will train," Thane said. "Learn the ways of this land. Your mark is a key, Lior, and keys can open doors… or alarms."
Lior's stomach twisted. The thought of danger lurking beyond the village gnawed at him, but the excitement of the unknown thrummed in his veins.
Night fell with a gentle hush. Lior sat outside, staring at the stars that burned with an unfamiliar brilliance. His hand tingled, the symbol on his palm faintly luminescent in the moonlight.
A rustle came from the nearby trees. He stiffened. A pair of amber eyes blinked at him from the shadows.
"Who's there?" Lior whispered, stepping back.
The figure stepped forward, revealing a girl with sharp eyes and nimble movements, her grin both mischievous and defiant. "Relax," she said. "I'm not here to hurt you. I'm Nyra."
Lior frowned. "Nyra?"
"Yes," she replied, crouching like a cat ready to pounce. "And you're the new boy, right? Lior. Word travels fast in the plains."
Lior's pulse quickened. He had thought danger would announce itself with growls or lightning, not a girl grinning in the dark.
Thane's voice rang in his memory: The plains recognize the mark.
Lior looked down at his hand. The faint glow pulsed as if responding to Nyra's presence. He realized that this world wasn't just alive, it was watching him. And now, the first piece of his destiny had arrived.