The ruins beneath the Wastes were older than memory. Once a fortress, now a grave of forgotten gods. Columns leaned against the earth like bones, and what remained of its walls were carved with sigils that still whispered when the wind passed through.
Mael and Aria descended the crumbling staircase, their lantern light trembling with every step. Dust hung in the air like mist.
"This place…" Aria murmured. "It's wrong."
"It's forgotten," Mael replied. "That's what makes it safe."
He pushed open a rusted door. Beyond it, a vast chamber stretched into shadow—pillars rising like the ribs of a dead beast. In the center stood an altar made of obsidian, cracked but intact, its surface engraved with the same spiral marks as the ones glowing on Mael's skin.
He froze.
Aria noticed. "What is it?"
"It's reacting," he said quietly. "To me."
The marks on his hands began to pulse—slower this time, almost rhythmically. The altar pulsed with them.
Mael stepped closer despite Aria's warning. He felt something pull at him, not physically, but from within—like the altar recognized him, like it was calling him home.
When his palm touched the black stone, the room breathed.
The dust in the air swirled, the ground trembled, and light—white and cold—spilled from the cracks in the altar. Symbols raced across the floor, connecting in a vast circular pattern that pulsed once… twice… then stilled.
Aria drew her sword. "Mael, stop—this isn't safe!"
He turned to her. His eyes weren't fully human anymore; the pupils had fractured into thin, glowing lines.
"I think it's a memory," he whispered. "Something left behind by the others."
---
The light shifted, forming a projection above the altar: shadowed figures standing in a circle, hooded, faces unseen. Their voices overlapped in a thousand whispers.
> "The Mark divides what should never be one.
When the vessel awakens, the balance will end.
Memory will consume memory."
Aria stepped back, shaking her head. "They're talking about you."
"No," Mael said, voice barely above a whisper. "They're talking about us."
He turned toward her, and for a moment, the light caught her back. The faintest shimmer—like a sigil hidden beneath her skin—flashed for less than a heartbeat.
Mael saw it.
His breath caught.
"Aria… what did you just—"
But before he could finish, a voice echoed from the far end of the chamber.
> "Don't trust her."
Both turned.
Kael Draven—the stranger from the Council Hall—stood in the doorway, his own mark burning like a wound.
He looked worse than before, his expression grim, eyes sharp.
"You brought her here?" he demanded. "To this place? You've doomed yourself."
Aria raised her sword, stepping in front of Mael. "How did you find us?"
Kael ignored her. He stared straight at Mael. "That altar is not your ally. It's a cage. It was made to keep the first vessel sealed."
"The first vessel?" Mael asked.
Kael pointed directly at Aria. "Her."
Mael froze.
Aria's eyes widened, but she didn't deny it fast enough.
Mael took a slow step back. "Tell me he's lying."
She opened her mouth. No words came.
Kael's voice thundered through the chamber. "She carries the second Mark—the one that will awaken when yours reaches its limit. They were never meant to coexist. One destroys, the other remembers."
Aria's sword trembled in her grip. "I didn't know, Mael. I swear, I didn't—"
The altar pulsed again, brighter, hungrier.
Mael's mark reacted violently. Light seared through his veins, crawling up his neck. He screamed and dropped to his knees.
Aria ran to him, but Kael pulled her back.
"Don't touch him! The marks are resonating—they're trying to merge!"
Mael's vision blurred. The chamber twisted. He saw flashes—worlds collapsing, oceans burning, cities frozen in white fire. The voice returned, inside his skull.
> "Two halves of the same remembrance.
One must fade. One must remain."
He gasped. "Aria…"
Her eyes filled with tears. "Fight it. Please. Don't let it take you."
But the altar split open, and from its core, a being emerged—formless at first, then shaping into something like a reflection of Mael himself, pure light, faceless, perfect.
Kael stepped back. "That's the seal's guardian—the Echo. It awakens when both vessels are near each other. Run!"
The Echo moved without sound. Its arm extended, and a blade of light formed from its hand. It struck.
Kael pushed Aria out of the way. The blade tore through his shoulder instead of her chest. He fell, gasping, his mark dimming.
"Go!" he snarled. "Take her and run!"
Mael's body was shaking, his veins burning. The mark wanted to answer the Echo.
He raised his hand. The room exploded in light.
When the brightness faded, the altar was shattered, Kael lay unconscious, and the Echo was gone—dispersed into smoke.
Mael collapsed, barely breathing. Aria caught him, holding his face between her hands.
"I didn't know," she whispered. "They never told me. I thought you were the only one."
Mael opened his eyes—white fire fading back to blue.
"Then we both were lied to."
She nodded slowly. "What now?"
He looked around the ruined chamber, at the broken altar and the blood pooling beneath Kael's body.
"Now," he said, voice low, dark, certain, "we find out who built these marks—
and we burn their gods to the ground."