Chapter 22 — The Mark and the Memory
The night after the mark appeared, sleep offered Teik no rest.
Dreams came to him like fractured memories—bits of rain, the hum of a city, and the echo of a voice that once called his name before everything turned to static.
He woke before dawn, the camp still silent. Embers from their fire glowed faintly. Ryn and Kara were asleep near the stones; Eira rested with her back against a tree, a faint shimmer of Flow around her body—a ward against nightmares.
Teik stared at his hands. His palms still tingled from where the sigil had burned into him. He turned them slowly, watching the light of dawn crawl over his skin. It was faint, but there—a ghostly mark, black and silver, alive with motion.
> Every rebirth comes with a price.
The whisper came again. Fainter this time, like an echo submerged in water.
Teik exhaled slowly. "I didn't ask for this," he muttered.
> No one asks for consequence.
He closed his eyes, gripping his knees, grounding himself against the soft hum of Flow beneath his feet. The energy of the realm was alive, shifting, breathing. It whispered to those who listened long enough.
And he could hear it now—more clearly than before.
He could feel the Flow respond to his thoughts, bending slightly around him as if recognizing something newly awakened within his soul.
He whispered to himself, "If this is power, then it's not mine alone."
A branch cracked nearby. Teik turned sharply—instinctive. His energy surged before he even realized it, causing a ripple of pressure to roll outward like a soft shockwave.
Eira stood at the edge of the firelight, her eyes glowing faintly blue. "You're awake early."
"Couldn't sleep."
"I could tell," she said quietly, stepping closer. "The Flow trembles every time your mind does."
Teik gave a weak laugh. "Guess I'm not built for peace."
She crouched beside him, studying his hands. Her gaze was sharp, analytical—but there was something softer beneath it too. "The mark hasn't faded."
"No."
"Then it wasn't a curse," she murmured. "It's an imprint—something older than the Flow itself."
Teik frowned. "Older than the Flow?"
"Yes. The scholars called it Origin Threading—when the soul is linked to an entity beyond this plane. It's supposed to be impossible."
Teik's expression darkened. "Then why me?"
Eira hesitated. "Because maybe you didn't reincarnate by accident. Maybe the Mysterious wanted you here."
Before Teik could reply, a sound broke the stillness—a distant rumble from the forest, followed by the cry of something neither beast nor spirit.
Ryn was up in an instant, hand on his sword. Kara followed, pulling her cloak aside to reveal the twin daggers strapped across her chest.
"Another Flow surge?" Ryn asked.
Eira shook her head. "No. This is different. It's alive."
The ground trembled softly beneath their feet.
Teik stood, eyes narrowing toward the treeline where the sound came from. He could feel it—a distortion in the Flow. Not malevolent… but searching.
His mark began to glow faintly again.
Kara caught the light and cursed under her breath. "It's reacting."
Teik felt his pulse quicken. "No… it's calling."
> We found you.
The voice didn't belong to the Mysterious. It was layered, fragmented—as if spoken by several beings at once.
Ryn drew his sword. "Teik, what did you just do?"
"Nothing." Teik swallowed hard. "At least, I think it's nothing."
The treeline split open with a burst of blue-white energy, scattering leaves into the air like sparks. From within the rift, something emerged—humanoid, but warped. Its form flickered between solid and liquid, as if struggling to maintain its shape.
Its eyes burned with recognition.
Eira whispered, "That's… a Flow construct. An ancient one."
Teik stepped forward. "Why does it know me?"
The creature tilted its head, its voice crawling into every mind at once.
> Because you were one of us… before you fell.
And with that, the clearing exploded into chaos.