The evening wind brushed against Kayden's face as he walked home. The streets were quiet, lined with fading orange light from the setting sun.
He had his hands in his pockets, his mind restless. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling crawling under his skin.
The moment with those bullies should've been over, but something about it—about the way his arm had burned—refused to leave his thoughts.
That mark. That strange, glowing sigil that had pulsed when he stood up to them.
What is this thing?
When he reached home, the lights in the living room were already on. His foster mother was setting the table while his father sat on the couch reading the evening news.
"Welcome back, Kayden," his father said with a smile. "You look tired."
"Yeah," Kayden muttered, slipping off his shoes. "Just… a long day."
His mother glanced up from the kitchen. "Dinner will be ready soon. Go wash up."
He nodded and started toward his room—but stopped halfway, glancing down at the faint pattern on his forearm. He hesitated, then turned back.
"Dad," he said quietly.
His father looked up. "Hmm?"
Kayden rubbed his wrist slowly. "Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"When I was little…" He hesitated. "Did I ever… get hurt? I mean, like, something serious. Around here." He lifted his sleeve slightly, revealing the faint outline of the sigil.
His parents exchanged a quick glance—so quick he almost missed it.
His mother's voice came gently. "Oh, that? Sweetheart, you had a small accident when you were a baby. Nothing major."
Kayden frowned. "An accident?"
"Yes," his father added quickly, his tone steady but too calm. "When we found you, you had a little mark there. We thought it was a scar. Doctors said it was harmless—might even just be a birthmark."
Kayden's eyes narrowed slightly. "A birthmark that glows?"
The room went silent for a second. His father forced a smile. "Maybe it's the lighting, son. Don't overthink it."
Kayden wanted to press further, but something in their eyes stopped him. They weren't telling him everything—but they weren't lying out of malice. They looked… afraid.
He nodded slowly. "Yeah. Maybe I'm just imagining things."
His mother exhaled quietly in relief. "Good. Now go get cleaned up before dinner."
Kayden smiled faintly and walked to his room, though his thoughts wouldn't quiet down. He knew what he saw. The mark had glowed.
And deep down, a quiet whisper stirred in his mind.
You were never meant to be here.
---
The next morning, the sky was bright and crisp. Kayden walked to school with his usual calm, though his eyes felt heavier than usual.
At the gates, he spotted Eren leaning against the wall, clutching a book in one hand.
"Morning," Kayden greeted.
Eren looked up, smiling shyly. "Hey. Thought you'd be late again."
Kayden smirked. "Almost was."
They walked together toward the building, their conversation light—about classes, about the annoying professor, about how quiet things seemed after yesterday's mess.
Eren laughed once, shaking his head. "I still can't believe you actually stood up to those guys."
Kayden shrugged. "They're just people. They bleed like everyone else."
"Yeah, but they're crazy," Eren replied. "You'll see what I mean if you ever meet their leader."
Kayden raised a brow. "What's his name again?"
"Ragnar," Eren said quietly, like the name itself carried weight. "He's not someone you want attention from."
Kayden just smiled faintly. "Guess we'll see."
---
By the time break came, the hallways were mostly empty. Students had gone out for lunch, laughter echoing faintly from outside. Kayden stayed behind, leaning on his desk with a book open, though his mind was elsewhere.
Eren sat beside him, sketching in his notebook. The room was calm.
Until the door creaked open.
The sound of footsteps followed—slow, heavy, deliberate. Kayden looked up.
Five figures entered the classroom, all wearing the same defiant smirk. The Vex Crew.
At their center was someone Kayden hadn't seen before—a tall student with ash-gray hair, sharp eyes, and a cold presence that filled the room. His uniform was unbuttoned at the collar, a faint scar cutting across his jaw.
Ragnar.
He stopped in front of Kayden's desk. "You're the guy, right?"
Kayden looked up slowly. "What guy?"
"The one who decided to play hero yesterday."
The room went silent. Eren froze beside him.
Ragnar's voice was calm, almost polite—but beneath it was something sharp, dangerous. "I don't like people touching my business. Especially outsiders."
Kayden closed his book and met his gaze. "Then maybe you should keep your business clean."
A flicker of surprise crossed Ragnar's face, then amusement. "You've got spirit. I'll give you that."
He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. "But spirit alone doesn't save people."
The air between them thickened. Kayden didn't move, didn't blink.
And then Ragnar straightened, smirking. "See you around, hero."
He turned and walked out with his crew, leaving only silence behind.
Eren let out the breath he'd been holding. "Kayden… what did you just do?"
Kayden didn't answer. His eyes were still fixed on the door where Ragnar had stood.
Under his sleeve, the sigil burned faintly again—like it was warning him.
Something told him this wasn't over.
Not by a long shot