The fire threw shifting shapes across the wall. She thought she saw wings unfurl in the shadows, wings not his (Adrian).
Upstairs a board creaked. Both froze. Slowly Adrian reached for the dagger at his hip.
Glass shattered. Black smoke slithered into the drawing room, twisting into forms with glowing eyes. Adrian leaped into battle, his blade carved with runes that burned as white as it cut shadow flesh, just like the others it wore no face – its features blurred, its skin stretched too thin, it eyes pits of ash. It shrieked, a sound that tore the air, and flung itself at Adrian. It looked stronger than the ones from the first attack.
The room erupted into chaos.
Adrian Slammed the table aside seizing his blade from his coat and his dagger in his left hand, Steel flashed, clashing against a weapon that seemed to form from smoke itself. The intruder's movements were jerky, unnatural, yet swift. Adrian's strike tore through its side – no blood spilled only a gush of black mist that stank of burning.
"Elena- Stay back!" he shouted.
She stumbled toward the fireplace, clutching the iron poker, her chest heaving. The creature's clawed hand slammed into the wall, leaving scorch marks in the wood. It turned on her, its pitch-black gaze locking onto her.
Her body froze. The poker slipped from her grip as she tripped and fell.
Adrian's blade found its mark again - this time straight into the creature's chest. For one terrible instant it howled, the sound rattling the very bones of the house, trying to attack, Adrian then stabs his second blade covered in runes into the creature then it burst apart, dissolving into smoke that poured through the cracks in the shutters and vanished into the storm.
Silence returned, broken only by the rasps of Elena's breath.
She clung to the wall, her knees weak. "What was that?"
Adrian pulled the blade free, his chest heaving. The wound on his arm bled freely now. "A warning."
Elena shook her head, trembling. "A warning from who?"
Adrian was already at her side, his expression grim, his eyes darkened. "From the one who marked you."
He buckled his twin blades to his belt. "They are close. We cannot stay here."
Elena turned from the glass. "This is my home."
His gaze caught hers, fierce and unyielding. "Then it is no longer safe."
She swallowed hard the crossed the room to where the fire poker lay. She lifted it, the weight awkward in her hands, but steadied her grip. "Then teach me. Because I won't run blind."
For the first time since his arrival, something softened in his face, pride, sorrow, and something deeper flickered in his eyes. "You're stronger than you know," he murmured.
Later as Adrian boarded up the broken window, Elena noticed something carved into the wood of the doorframe. She leaned close, her breath catching.
It was feint, as if burned there long ago: the same double circle she had seen in the soil, runes etched deep into her home.
Her blood ran cold.
"Adrian," She whispered.
He joined her, his face darkening at the sight.
"They've been here before," She said. Her voice broke. "They marked this place. They marked me."
Adrian laid a hand on the door, his shoulders taut as steel. When he spoke, his voice was low and grim.
"They were never coming for me alone, Elena. They've been watching you all along."
A chilling calm settled over Elena, A realization so cold it eclipsed the fear. She looked at the faint, runes engraved on her forearm, they marked me.
Adrian's grim words clicked into place. She wasn't an innocent bystander; she was the target.
Adrian pushed himself off the door, his movements fluid and deadly as he drew a thin, wickedly sharp knife from a sheath inside his jacket sleeve. The light from the single bulb caught the blade.
The air in the hallway grew suddenly heavy, thick with the scent of ozone and something burnt and metallic. Dust motes danced erratically in the faint light filtering from the window, and a low, resonant hum began to vibrate through the floorboards. The mark on the door seemed to pulse with a faint, sickly red light.
Adrian looked at the pulsing symbol, his jaw tight. "The mark is active," he noted, his tone oddly analytical despite the terror mounting in the small space. He reached a decision, his composure snapping into focus. He spun away from the door and strode quickly down the narrow hallway toward the kitchen.
Elena backed away, shaking her head. "No. No, that can't be right. I'm nobody. You're the one with the enemies, the history..."
"The mark on the door, the whispers you heard last night, it's not a coincidence," Adrian countered, pushing off the wooden top in the kitchen. He ran a hand through his hair, his earlier grim resolve momentarily cracking under the weight of the revelation. "They wanted to confirm if you were the prophesied one, we have a window. A few hours, maybe until dawn. We need to be ready to run."
He turned to the wall safe, dialing the combination with practiced, frantic speed. He pulled out a worn satchel, the bag he came back with when he left saying he had preparations to make. "I'll pack the essentials. You need to calm down and think clearly. We can't afford panicking right now."
But his urgency only amplified her fear. To be watched, to be a pawn in this brutal game, it was too much to process while the man responsible for the danger stood two feet away. She didn't want to run; she wanted to breathe air that hadn't been poisoned by his secrets.
I can't," Elena whispered, clutching her arms. "I can't stand here and wait for them to kick down the door. I feel like I'm suffocating. "She looked wildly toward the front window, where the last of the evening light painted the city a weary gold. "I need space. I need to be somewhere loud, somewhere they won't look."
Adrian stopped packing, his head snapping up. "Elena, no. That's insane. They think you are the prophesied one, and the runes on your arm doesn't make things better. You're a beacon right now."
"Then cover the light, I don't even know what that means." She spat, already grabbing her old, heavy cloak from the hall hook.
"I'm not running yet. I'm going out for twenty minutes. I'll just get a drink and stand under the lights of the diner. Somewhere public. I need to feel normal again for five minutes, or I won't be any use to you when the time comes."
Before he could argue further, she had the door unbolted. She slipped out into the cool evening air, the simple act of walking down the steps a reckless defiance against the terror that had frozen her inside the house. She headed toward the glow of town, trusting in the noise and anonymity of the crowd to temporarily clear the fear for her mind.
The city of Greystone had always worn shadows like a second skin. By day, its crooked streets and weather worn cottages looked harmless enough, but by night, when the fog from the marshes rolled in and the church bell tolled its iron warning, the whole place seemed suspended between the living and the dead.
On this night, the fog was thick as wool. The people had gathered in the square for the Harvest Festival, a celebration that should have brought laughter, dancing, and music. But even amidst the bonfire's blaze and the fiddlers' frantic strings, there was unease. Whispers moved as quickly as the autumn wind. Mother clutched their children too tightly, men drank faster than usual, and the priest kept his gaze fixed on the sky as though expecting something to fall from it.
Elena stood at the edge of the square, half-hidden by the shadows of the old chapel. She should have been dancing with the other girls her age, ribbons in her hair and cider in her hand, but instead her fingers worried the edge of her cloak. Her heart beat unevenly, a secret rhythm that matched the strange heat burning beneath her skin.
The mark had been faint at first. Just a flicker of red, like a bruise, blooming at the inside of her wrist two nights ago. But tonight, beneath the bonfire's glow, it pulsed. Crimson threads crept up her forearm like veins of molten glass, the runes surrounding them, and every thrum of the drums made it flare brighter.
She tugged her sleeve down, but the fabric did nothing to hide the searing pain. She bit the inside of her cheek to keep from crying out.
"Elena."
The voice was low, urgent. She turned to find leaning in the shadows beside her. His dark hair fell into his eyes, his jaw set in that grim way she had come to know too well. A mercenary, some said. A deserter, others whispered. Whatever his past, Adrian carried himself like a man who had seen too much blood to believe in festivals anymore.
"You should leave," he said. His gaze flicked to her sleeve. He had noticed. He always noticed.
She shook her head. "If I leave now they'll notice."
"They already notice," Adrian replied. His hand brushed the hilt of his blade, more habit than threat. "The order will come. It's only a matter of time."
The Order. The word alone was enough to make her stomach clench. White-Cloaked inquisitors who hunted anything touched by the unnatural. Those born with strange gifts, cursed marks, or whispered prophesies, – all dragged away in chains, never to be seen again.
As if summoned by his words, the sound of hooves cracked across the night. The music faltered. The fiddler's bow screeched against his strings before silence swallowed everything.
The villagers turned. From the mist emerged a column of riders, pale cloaks trailing like shrouds. Torches burned in their hands, their light cruel and cold. At their head role a figure in iron grey armor, a hood shadowing his face. His voice, when it rang out was sharp as a blade.
"By decree of the Order, the Seal has awakened in Greystone. The bearer will be surrendered, or the city will burn."
A gasp tore through the crowd. Mothers pulled children close. Men stepped back, unwilling to meet the eyes of the riders. No one spoke Elena's name – but too many eyes turned in her direction.
Her mark burned like fire.
Adrian cursed under his breath. "Run."
Before she could answer, one of the soldiers dismounted, drawing a blade etched with runes that glowed faintly blue. The bonfire sputtered as though afraid.
"She's here," the soldier said. His helm turned toward Elena. "The Seal is upon her."
The world fractured into screams.