The silence that followed the massacre was not the silence of peace, but of shock.
The blood of the Council had not yet dried on the marble floor when Mael finally exhaled, realizing too late what he had done—and what had awakened inside him.
His hands were still glowing faintly, marked with shifting symbols that pulsed like veins of living light. He tried to wipe them away. They burned through his skin, refusing to vanish.
"It wasn't me…" Mael whispered.
"No," a voice inside him answered, "but it was always meant to be you."
He staggered back. The voice wasn't the same as before. It wasn't guiding him—it was remembering something he didn't know.
Aria was the first to reach him, eyes wide with fear and loyalty fighting inside her.
"Mael… you need to move. People outside heard the screams. They'll blame you."
"They should," Mael replied, his voice trembling, "I don't even know what I've become."
"You're alive," Aria insisted. "And right now, that's the only thing that matters."
But others were not so forgiving.
A group of surviving mages stood at the broken doorway, weapons raised, spells already forming.
"Step away from him, Aria," one of them commanded. "The boy is cursed. The Mark has taken him."
Mael lifted his head slowly. "What do you mean, taken me? You knew about this?"
The mages didn't answer. Their silence was confirmation.
They had expected this.
They had prepared for this.
They had feared him long before he even knew who he was.
Before the first attack could be cast, the candles in the hall flickered—then went out, one by one, as if smothered by an unseen hand.
A cold wind moved through the room, bringing with it a presence that had not stepped foot in the Council halls for over a century.
A voice echoed through the darkness, calm and amused.
"So. The Mark has finally awakened."
Everyone froze—except Mael, who felt the voice resonate inside his bones, like an ancient memory forcing its way back.
"Who… are you?" Mael asked into the shadows.
Two red eyes opened in the dark.
"Not who," the stranger replied.
"What you were created to destroy."
The ground trembled. The symbols on Mael's skin flared, burning like fire.
And then—for the first time—Mael didn't faint.
He answered back.
"Then come closer."
The chapter ends with the candles exploding into light, revealing the figure—hooded, smiling, and wearing the same Mark Mael thought only he possessed.
The stranger stepped into the light, revealing a mark identical to Mael's—except older, darker, and fully awakened.
Where Mael's symbol still pulsed like something learning to breathe, the stranger's looked like it had already devoured entire worlds.
Aria stepped in front of Mael, blades drawn.
"Whoever you are—stay back."
The stranger tilted his head, amused.
"You protect him as if you understand him. But even he doesn't understand what he carries."
Mael's fists tightened.
"Then explain it. Now."
The stranger smiled—not kindly, but like someone watching a child demand the truth about fire.
"You were born with the Mark, Mael. I earned mine. That is the difference between us."
The mages around the room finally found their voices.
"You're supposed to be dead," one stammered. "You vanished during the War of Vanishing—no one survived!"
"I didn't survive," the stranger replied. "I evolved."
A wave of energy pulsed outward, forcing everyone except Mael to step back.
The Mark on Mael's skin reacted instinctively—glowing brighter, spreading across his arm like a living map.
The stranger nodded with satisfaction.
"Yes. Your awakening has begun. But you are still incomplete. Still weak."
"Then why are you here?" Mael demanded.
"To give you a warning," the stranger answered. "Because the next one they marked will not be as merciful as I was."
A chill passed through the room.
"Next one?" Aria whispered.
"There were three meant to carry the Mark," he said. "One vanished before birth. One was sealed away. And you…"
He pointed at Mael.
"…were allowed to grow in ignorance, because they believed you would never awaken."
Mael felt his pulse in his ears.
"Who sealed them? Who decides this?"
"The same ones who raised you," the stranger said. "The ones who feared what you could become."
The Council. The elders. The world that pretended to protect him.
Everything inside Mael went still.
"If they feared me," Mael said slowly, "then they should have killed me when they had the chance."
The stranger's smile sharpened.
"Good. Now you are speaking like one of us."
Suddenly, he turned—not toward Mael, but toward the broken entrance.
"They're coming," he said. "An army of believers. Loyal to the Seal. Your survival ends here if you stay."
Aria looked at Mael. "What do we do?"
Mael looked down at his glowing mark.
Then he lifted his hand.
"We run. But next time… we hunt."
The stranger stepped backwards into a shadow that swallowed him whole.
"Find me when you are ready, Mael.
The Mark does not choose the weak."
The hall began to shake. Armored footsteps echoed from outside.
And for the first time since the awakening—
Mael wasn't afraid. He was furious.